


Of Softness and Jealousy

by Demetria_0620



Series: Twistedly Messed Up [4]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Evil, Denial of Feelings, Evil!Barry, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Multiple Universes, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 03:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12785784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demetria_0620/pseuds/Demetria_0620
Summary: Savitar is not soft. Barry is not jealous. That's it. THE END.On the other hand, Killer Frost is confident that Barry was going to lose his patience first before Savitar even realized that Barry was jealous. Cold decided that it is a good chance to start a multiverse betting pool. Deathstorm and Barry's other dopplegangers are just in for the amusement.OrThat one fanfic about Barry and Savitar's relationship from so many different POVs that were not theirs.





	1. Prologue : Soft

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm alive. No, I'm not yet ready to update my other series or keep a consistent schedule of writing. I had a major writer block and a difficult change in my real life situation. This is my attempt to unblock my writer block and get my grooves back.
> 
> This is a part of my Evil!Barry universe. You might want to read the rest of the series to understand what the fuck is going on.This happens before Twistedly Messed Up, and in between Chapter 2 and 3 of Snippets of Life.
> 
> Un-betaed, so read at your own risk. Potentially will be updated with self-cest smut between Evil Barry and Savitar. But for the first few chapters, do enjoy Barry's denial and Savitar's obliviousness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry was not jealous

“Barry, you’re freaking me out.”

Softness was comfortable.

“Barry?”

Savitar was not soft.

Barry decided that as he traced a wet trail down the slender frame, tasting the lean muscles that were hardened through continuous running, savouring the powerful flavour of lightning and speed that thrummed inside the too warm body and taking in the comfort of the fluttering vibration of his nervous partner. He punctuated his journey with a gentle bite just below Savitar’s hips, right over the fading mark that was too new to be his. He’ll cover the rest of the marks later. For now, he wanted to taste his partner. He then moved up the clenching abs, to the flat chest and stopped right at the nape of Savitar’s neck, lavishing the warm skin with attention till he left bruises that would take too long to disappear, even by speedster’s standards.

Savitar’s lips curled to a hardened grimace, powerful and rough, despite how soft and supple those lips felt against Barry’s own when he claimed the younger speedster into a searing kiss.

Savitar was never soft.

And Barry was not jealous.

(Or so he thought.)


	2. Killer Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killer Frost was the first to notice. Unsure, she decided to test her assumptions. Barry wasn't a happy camper.

Frost was the first to notice.

It was her third year on this Earth, third year having the freedom to bask in her villainous glory, third year knowing this version of Barry Allen, but it was the first time she ever saw a hint of weakness in this evil Flash. The Barry Allen on her former Earth was a stammering adorable cutie and was insanely loyal to his Iris West—nothing that could compare to this Earth’s Barry Allen who was a confident cool-headed hottie that changed partners every night.

The 36 years old speedster was the exact opposite of the stereotypical Barry Allen—the wildest version Barry Allen she had ever met.

Thus, this scene was very amusing to Killer Frost.

Barry was _tensed_.

No, he wasn’t tensed because of some threats from enemies or any unwanted annoyance. Things had grown calm since the beginning of this year, with the last trace of heroics being wiped out from the Earth, and Barry had dispatched his underlings across the world to solidify his villainous influence. They were safe in their lair, drinking and relaxing, enjoying the time of their life when she noticed how tensed Barry was.

The speedster seemed to be barely breathing. His shoulders were stiff, the tension was obvious with the way the veins on his biceps seemed to grow more prominent while the sharp edge of his jaw was grimly set as if he was gritting his teeth. For once, the Flash was oblivious to the world, completely ignoring the needy girls who clung to him, or possible threats that his worsening paranoia often shadowed his mind as his eyes zeroed into the darker side of the lair.

Frost shifted a bit to get a glimpse on what had been distracting her boss, only to hold back a giggle once her gaze landed on Savitar.

Savitar, who was bracing himself against the edge of the pool table at the darker corner of the lair while his latest favourite had his hips tight in her grip as she took him deep into her throat.

_Oh._

She didn’t know that Barry was _that_ possessive.

This reaction was new and amusing to witness. Despite his obvious preference towards Savitar, Barry didn’t care about the younger speedster. He fucked Savitar whenever he wanted to and then left just like that—they were nothing exclusive, their relationship was that of purely sexual nature. Both were free to indulge in the willing whores that came begging into their lair. Neither of them showed any form of affection to each other, especially Barry.

(Savitar sometimes mockingly acted like an annoying wife to Barry, but that was purely for teasing purposes.)

(Barry, on the other hand, never so much of showing fondness outside of sex to Savitar.)

Thus, this little death glare Barry was directing to Savitar’s latest favourite was extremely new.

One would argue that Barry was annoyed because Savitar obnoxiously ruined his furniture by spreading the girl over his pool table, but Frost sensed something far deeper than a mere annoyance in the Flash’s death glare.

Lightnings flickered in those green eyes, for fuck’s sake. That was too much of reaction over a simple ruined pool table.

Barry‘s jaw hardened when Savitar started moving.

This was far too amusing to watch silently.

Feeling a little bold and curious, Frost downed her whole glass, winked mischievously at her husband who merely raised a confused eyebrow at her before she sashayed her way towards Savitar, all the while feeling a confused burning gaze landed on her back.

By the time she reached the younger speedster, the girl earlier was already being laid naked and used over the pool table, her breasts and stomach were slickened with cum while her bare legs wrapped loosely around his jeans-clad thigh, her eyes hooded in glazy aftermath. Savitar blurred slightly when he noticed Frost, though when he greeted her with a lazy smirk across his scarred features, his clothing was already perfectly in place, his breathing was completely controlled and calm though the slight flush of his cheeks betrayed the casual look he was trying to give.

“Hey, Frosty,” he greeted with an acknowledging tip of his head. “What’s up?”

Frost threw her arms around his neck before she lost all of her wits and pulled him down into a kiss.

He froze for a moment, stunned at her sudden kiss and was pushing her away too, his head tried to move in the direction of her husband. Frost moved a hand to wrap around his waist, feeling the high contrast of his hot skin against her icy hand and pushed closer, dragging her lips softly, trying to mimic the way Barry always kissed Savitar until the younger speedster let out a small whine, finally submitting to her sudden kiss.

After that, Savitar was so pliant and submissive. He moaned when she ran her ice-coated tongue over his teeth, whimpering oh so sweetly when she deepened the kiss, her manicured painted nails tilted his head so that she could go even further—his reaction was so enthusiastic that she almost forgot that her real intention kissing him was to annoy Barry and confirmed her suspicion that the older speedster was being jealous and possessive over Savitar.

But this was too good of a reaction to not be taken advantage of.

She tugged on his hair, loving the way he moaned into her mouth, his body so hot against her cold skin.

When they parted, his eyes were dark and hooded—pupils blown so wide while his cheeks flushed to a deeper shade of pink. Frost smiled, trailing her lips lower to his jaw, down to his neck before burying her face at the crook of his neck, leaving small frosty hickeys on his heated skin.

She snuck a quick glance at the other end of the lair where her own husband was staring lustfully at both her and Savitar.

They exchanged a quick wink.

Barry, on the other hand, looked like he was about to flip a table. Or a car. Probably both. And maybe derailed a train too.

The Flash seemed so pissed off.

“What was that for?” Savitar finally managed to croak out, no longer resisting when she pulled him even closer, close enough to feel his hardened hot length against her stomach. “You—”

“I kissed you.”

Savitar was obviously, still confused.

“Uh, I know. But _why_?”

Frost shrugged. “I’m curious,” she feigned innocence, smoothing her fingers over his chest when he stared at her in bewilderment. “You said that you once had a sexual relationship with my doppelganger. I wanna know what she had and what I had been missing….”

_And also how jealous Barry could be…_

“You are married…,” he still seemed so confused, what a poor thing. 

But, Frost really enjoyed this little experiment. 

“Ronnie is…,” he started.

“Oh, don’t sweat it. I don’t fucking mind.”

Frost couldn’t stop the evil smirk from spreading when her husband suddenly appeared and trapped Savitar between them, those rough wide hands sneaked down Savitar’s sides and rested oh so innocently over the speedster’s ass. Deathstorm nipped on Savitar’s ear, tugging and pulling the burnt flesh with his teeth as he started to massage and squeeze the firm flesh in his palms.

“Fuck it, Ronnie,” Savitar hissed, squirming a bit, his hands came up to rest over Frost’s shoulders for support.

“Fuck what? _You_?” Deathstorm chuckled, and Frost instantly recognized the lust in her husband’s voice.

Holy crow. They were booking a ticket to death here if Barry’s patience ran out.

“Jeez, dude,” Savitar gritted out, trying so hard to not give up so early and rolled his hips back to Deathstorm’s grinding crotch. “Since when you’re gay?”

“Since I saw you looking delectably delicious when you kissed my wife,” Deathstorm smiled, leaving his own mark just above Frost’s icy ones, making Savitar moaned out loud at the sensation of fire and ice on his skin. “I get it why Barry liked you so much. So sensitive…”

As if on cue, the dim lights suddenly flickered wildly, yellowish-orange statics erupted dangerously before every single electrical appliance in the lair exploded and died, leaving them all in complete darkness.

Frost could barely made out Savitar’s scowl when the speedster yelled;

“BARRY, WHAT THE FUCK CLIMBED UP YOUR ASS AND DIE—”

Whoosh.

And Savitar was gone.

The fire and ice couple exchanged a look, sharing identical expression despite the darkness that engulfed them.

Deathstorm snorted. “Guess Barry wasn’t so fond of sharing.”

“Hypothesis accepted,” Frost giggled. “He is so fucking possessive but don’t want to admit it.”

“Aww, that’s too bad. I was looking forward for a foursome. Both of you looked so hot while you’re at it.”

“Oh, honey, _NO_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whose POV do you want to see next? So far, I have plans for Cold, and few of Barry's doppelgangers that were just briefly mentioned in the previous installments of this series.
> 
> Annnddd....
> 
> Who actually wanted a kink prompt fic of this universe? And maybe Savitar/Barry/Deathstorm/KillerFrost foursome as the first one-shot of the kink prompt fic?
> 
> I really need to unblock my writer block. 
> 
> Tell me your thoughts~! They keep me encouraged.


	3. Just a girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look on the life of the girl who had been at the receiving end of Barry's jealousy glares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed. Read at your own risk.

She was just a small-town girl who lived in lonely world.

Her parents were never home, working their asses off for the family. They weren’t poor, far from it in fact, but everything that they had, never seemed enough for her parents. Thus, she was always left to her own devices, having fun with her so-called friends without care of the world. It was fun at first. She has the privilege to spend as much money as she wished, plus the ultimate freedom to invite anyone she wanted into her doors. It was a repetitive cycle of recklessness and fun.

Though, as she grew older, the cycle started to grow boring.

Hence, she packed up some clothes and cash, hopped on into a midnight train and travelled to wherever fate decided to lead her.

She didn’t expect to almost lose her life when her train was derailed right outside Central City borders, sending her into unconsciousness amid the ice, statics and lightnings.

It was just her luck that her train was in the middle of the spar between a bored speedster and an annoyed ice queen.

She woke up hours later, in the small living room of a stranger with bandages wrapped around her numb head and her dislocated shoulder.

“ _You_ , young lady, is lucky to be alive. There are not many survivors who were caught in their sparring and live to tell the tale…,” her host said, handing her a few tablets to ease up the pain.

“But they save me anyway?”

The woman snorted.

“Don’t flatter yourself. _I_ saved you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have it in me when I hear them talking about potential survivors that they left to die and not do anything about it,” she muttered softly, before squaring her wide shoulders. “Couldn’t do anything about your stuffs though. They shattered to ice pieces.”

“That’s okay. They’re just some clothes and money in there.”

“Gurl, you’re going to need both of those to live in this city.”

“I can work,” she said, straightening herself but being mindful enough of her injured shoulders. “I don’t mind. I would do anything to live.”

“Good luck, kid. Normal jobs won’t be easy to get in this city,” the woman snorted again, running her hand over the barest hint of stubbles on her jaw, eyeing up and down of the length of the girl’s body. “And though you will fit in nicely in my industry, it’s not an easy life. Go back home, girl.”

The girl remembered the empty home, the fake smiles and all those cold nights alone and quickly shook her head.

“I don’t want to,” she said firmly. “I don’t mind selling my body to live if I have to.”

That stunned the other woman. The woman blinked slowly before letting out a suffering sigh.

“What is your name, girl?”

“Whatever you wish to call me. I have thrown my former name away.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m going to call you Mel. It was my dead dog’s name, since you’re so stupid just like that old mutt,” her host grumbled, though there was no bite in her tone. “The name is Margo, but you can call me Mom like all the other chicks.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Margo sighed again.

“Men of this city are no gentleman, Mel. They are going to use you and then discard you to look after yourself,” she explained as she sat across her, her short skirts hiked up a bit of her muscular thighs. “One month. Try to look for normal job first. You can stay here with me while you’re jobless. You’re still young. You’re not as desperate as I am. You can live a normal life.”

And Mel did. She tried to look for normal jobs. Waitress, barista, dishwasher, contract builder—she applied for everything. But, having left her name and education back at her lonely small town, she had nothing but her new name and face to offer to the employers. Thus, she always came home to Margo empty-handed.

But it was okay. Because Margo always embraced her against her firm chest, saying that it was okay, and she could always try again. 

Margo’s small apartment was so warm and loving—something that she had never felt before.

She had become addicted to that warmth.

Thus, one day, just a week before her one-month time was up she decided to surprise visit Margo at work. She had made up her mind. She wanted to work with the woman that she had considered as her mom. She dressed for the job and made her way to the streets where Margo worked.

She got lost after ten minutes venturing into the district.

And it didn’t take long for her to attract unwanted attention.

She was easily cornered against a wall, hunching her body smaller as the men stared down at her. She shied away when they touched her hair and shoulders, wanting to desperately scream for her mom but couldn’t find her voice to do so.

She wanted her Mom. This was scary.

Tears already streaked her cheeks when she felt statics and smelt ozone in the air and the next thing she knew she was pressed up the wall, strong arm that was too warm wrapped tight around her waist as she squirmed against the ticklish feeling of lazy lips against her neck.

“Play along.”

That was a command.

And her breath was taken away when he kissed her—rough and powerful, that she had to cling to his shoulders, feeling her knees instantly weakened under his mercy. He broke the kiss with gentle tug on her lower lips, smirking lazily when he drawled out;

“I thought I told you that you’re _mine_ …,” he stroked her cheek, wiping the hint of her tears away. “Don’t go around parading what’s mine to the public.”

Shocked and still dumbfounded, she nodded her head meekly.

“Dude, we get the chick first—”

The guy was instantly silenced by his friends. She peeked around the burnt ear of the man that was holding her, and saw the group of men slowly backed away, multiple hands pressed against the mouth of the man who had spoken earlier, before they burst to a frantic run when they were a good 5 meters away. 

She was instantly released after that.

“You saved her.”

She was still trembling, holding onto the dark shirt of her saviour but couldn’t help but feel utterly confused when she heard the hint of awe in the speaker’s voice and the annoyed huff of her saviour.

“You are about to rescue her,” her saviour deadpanned, annoyance evident in his voice. “No heroic on our Earth, _Allen_. You’re a hero on your Earth. When you’re on ours, you follow _our_ rules.”

“But you saved her. _You_ are her hero.” 

“Barry is less likely to kill me than _you_ , idiot. Lena would ice my ass if Barry killed you while I was supposed to host your little bachelor party.”

There was a sarcastic snort. “As if you’re actually hosting anything for me, Savitar.”

“It’s not a bachelor party if you don’t have strippers. Plus, you know that they just want you out of the way for their girls night out, right?”

“The worst betrayal by my fiancée so far.”

“Hey, she wanted you to take a break from being a hero. I volunteered as a tribute.”

“Fuck you, Savitar.”

“Nahh…I decline. I rather have her anyway.”

Mel’s breath hitched when he suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. She shakily looked up, taking in the scarred half of the speedster she previously only known by name through words on the streets and news. He tilted his head, lips curled to a dangerous smirk.

“And who said that she is safe? My intention was never pure,” Savitar hummed, hoisting her up till she has no choice but to wrap her legs round his waist. “When I said that you’re mine, you’re mine now.”

She hiccupped when he dove close to lave her neck with his mark, still confused above all when she watched his twin rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance.

He dropped her home an hour after her mom usually reached home, with his jacket wrapped around the ruined upper-half of her dress, and she was still feeling slightly giddy and hazy from the electrifying pleasure he bestowed to her. She stumbled into Margo’s arms—her legs were shaky and weak, but she still looked up with a smile to her Mom as she waved the access card to the infamous Rogue’s lair, only to frown when she saw the horrified expression on Margo’s face.

Margo gave her an exasperated glare.

“You’re one troublesome girl.”

“But I got a job.”

Margo sighed. “Yes, sweetie. You get a job.”

She never understood why Margo looked so terrified for her.

Until now, at least.

For the last few months, she had been Savitar’s favourite whore. She was always an obedient girl to her parents, so being obedient to him was not a new thing. Spread her legs when he wanted it, wherever he wanted it. If he wanted her to kneel, she knelt. If he wished her to be depraved of her senses and experience pain, she will obey without questions, despite how painful those nights would be when he dangled her pleasure in front of her just slightly out of her reach. She was exclusive for him and him only; unless whenever he decided to share her with his friends or twins.

He was not an easy client, but she was happy.

And she managed to secure a house with cute little lawn too, so her job wasn’t that bad.

But tonight, was different. 

For the first time ever since she started working here, she felt fear.

The Flash was terrifying.

She had interacted with the Flash a few times before, but never on close range. She had never been the centre of his attention. A little dip of his head to acknowledge her presence there and a few amused smiles when he watched her being ruined and wrecked by the rest of his underlings while Savitar left her under his watch. That was all. 

She never felt any threat or hostility from the Flash.

But tonight, he was straight up glaring at her. She had that ominous chills ever since she stepped inside the lair. It was so scary that she had to half-hid herself behind Savitar, holding onto her master’s shirt with silent prayers to be protected. The Flash watched her like a hawk zoning onto prey, his silent fury made her skin crawled and the hair on her arms stood as his expression got even more darker every time she latched closer to her master.

She was so terrified, that she couldn’t focus on her job, freezing like a statue when Savitar took her right on the pool table—it was a mix of fear and pleasure, the feelings pumped adrenaline into her veins, heightened her senses that when she felt the now familiar jolt of painful warmth that crackled on her skin, all that she could feel was his angry gaze on her.

It was oddly arousing.

She wondered what kind of lover the Flash would be.

Left naked on the pool table to gather herself back, she pondered on the idea, fantasizing about both speedsters, too caught up in her hazy state of aftermath glow that she didn’t realise what was happening around her until she heard Margo’s voice.

“Mellie!”

She felt Margo’s warm embrace afterwards.

“Damn it, Savitar is cruel,” she heard Deathstorm commented, laughter was evident in his voice.

“Too bad,” that was Killer Frost cooing at her, cold hands tilted her face up as the woman’s icy lips crashed against her shaky bruised ones. “We actually enjoyed your pleasurable company. It’s a shame to watch you go.”

Margo’s arms tightened around her as she whispered, horrified. “Watch her go?”

“The Flash don’t want her here.”

Mel stiffened upon hearing those words. She looked up, shifting in discomfort as she realised that she had let Savitar’s release dried on her naked body. “I’m fired?”

“Not your fault, honey,” Killer Frost cooed, placing one last peck on her lips. “The Flash is… _possessive_.”

That was when everything clicked in for Mel.

The way Flash always kept an eye on Savitar. The way those green eyes softened and relaxed whenever Savitar was in sight. The gentleness that she saw every time Flash touched Savitar—such gentleness that was so unlike the man who started a mass genocide of the heroes years ago. The way there always some food for Savitar every time they come here. The slow kiss between the two speedsters—the rare intimate moments between the two that Mel had managed to witness just because they thought she had passed out on exhaustion. The angry curl of the Flash’s lips whenever Savitar sped in here with an injury or two.

The disdainful glares she had been receiving since this past few weeks.

The Flash loved Savitar.

Mel giggled.

“Wooops. Time to take the missy home,” Deathstorm chuckled, his hot hand felt good against her head. “Since the Flash is being generous today, he had a car prepared for you outside. Have a nice night, ladies.”

Mel didn’t remember how long it took for them to get home, but she was already feeling better by the time Margo bundled her up in blankets on her bed. Margo was handing her a mug of hot chocolate when there was the familiar whoosh of air and the Flash stood before them.

He didn’t say anything; his face was a cold poker face mask as he tossed a large envelope onto her bed.

“I couldn’t have Savitar distracted,” he said, firm and clear, tipping his head in the familiar way that made Mel’s lips twitched to an assuring smile.

He then disappeared in a trail of lightnings.

Margo was going through the content of the envelope, her jaw kept slacking into wider and wider ‘O’ as she mumbled on how easy it was for supervillains to have everything done in a blink of an eye. Mel, on the other hand, sipped on her chocolate, remembering the way the sharp green eyes adoringly shadowed each of her previous master’s steps.

That was love.

“I could quit my job on the streets with this and live a normal life," Margo breathed out, awe and wonder prominent in her tone. "He literally gave us the café that we had been struggling to buy. He had all the legal papers in here.”

Mel hummed upon hearing Margo’s words. At least the Flash was a considerate employer.

“Mama?”

“Yes, Mellie?”

“I want to marry someone who would look at me the way the Flash look at Savitar.”

She burst into laughter upon seeing Margo’s horrified expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a fun POV to write. One of the minor-est character. I honestly love Mel.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this update. 
> 
> Tell me your thoughts~ They encourage me.


	4. Savitar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Savitar was understandably confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is un-betaed, so read at your own risk.

Barry was acting weird.

And Savitar was very confused.

“Barry.”

The older speedster merely grunted in response, and the arms that laced Savitar’s waist tightened, secure and possessive. Barry buried his face to the crook of Savitar’s neck, his chest pressed flush against Savitar’s back, tangling their legs together. He was basically latching onto Savitar like an obnoxiously attached and stubborn octopus.

“Old man, fuck off. I can't move,” Savitar grumbled, trying to pry Barry’s grip off his body but to no avail, the embrace just got tighter.

“Ssshhhh….,” Barry hushed. “Go to sleep, baby.”

That had Savitar to instantly freeze. His body become pliant and relaxed in Barry’s embrace, though his eyes were vigilant, scanning the room for potential threats.

Barry only used pet names on him when they’re in public—to keep the illusion that they were far closer than they actually were. Deathstorm had noticed that people were less likely to antagonize them when they knew that Barry and Savitar were attached to each other. The idea that one of the two deadliest speedsters would speed to backup the instance the other was threatened was not favourable to any resistance group. Even if you could stop one of them, you could not stop the other.

Hence, they acted far lovey-dovey than they actually were in public than in private.

Life was so much easier after they employ this strategy.

“Barry,” Savitar sighed, tilting his head so that he could create the illusion that he was whispering some bullshit love nonsense to Barry’s ear, though his actual words were completely different, “I see no one. Where is the intruder?”

Barry tensed, and Savitar tried to scan the room again, wondering why the fuck he couldn’t detect any threats while Barry obviously could.

He was the younger one between the two of them. He should have sharper senses!

Savitar tried to squirm free again, but Barry grasped his hand, lacing their fingers tight like he has no intention of letting go.

“ _Barry_.”

“There is no threat,” Barry mumbled back, sounding groggy. “Relax, baby.”

“Then why the fuck do you suddenly want to cuddle?? We don’t do cuddles.”

"............."

"Barry?"

“You’re warm.”

“What the fuck, old man.”

And that was the end of his argument. Barry nuzzled to the nape of his neck for one last time, before the older speedster pulled Savitar even closer and promptly fell asleep, his lips pressed on Savitar’s skin.

Savitar was very, very confused.

Thus, the next morning, once Barry finally let him go with a gentle kiss that was both so sweet and creepy as they parted, he went to do some research. Not that he had anything better to do anyway now that Mel has resigned and Savitar was not in the mood to terrorize the cities especially after he noticed that Barry started acting weird.

Though, by lunchtime, Savitar finally gave up, swallowed his pride and decided to ask for expert's opinion.

Frost was browsing through those parenting and adoption sites again when Savitar barged into her lab.

“You’re adopting?” He raised an eyebrow, not missing the sites even though she had quickly closed them when she heard him.

“We are planning to,” Frost bit her lower lips, looking slightly uncomfortable. “But maybe not now. Sometime in the future…,” she was avoiding his eyes as she pleaded softly, “can you please not tell Barry about this?”

Savitar snorted. “He isn’t going to stop you from adopting a kid, Frosty.”

“He hates kids.”

“Hey, as long as your little terrors do not come into his or my private quarters, we’re cool with it.”

“Savitar, _please_.”

Savitar tipped his head to the side. “Sure, yeah.”

Frost gave him a little smile. “So, what brings you to my humble lab, Savitar?” She beamed, though her cheerfulness was too plastic to mask her nervousness of the previous topic.

Savitar grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight from one foot to the other in that typical Barry Allen fashion. Frost raised and eyebrow, amused to see him unsure with his own thoughts. 

" _What?_ Spit it out."

“Is attachment issue a symptom of PTSD?”

Frost’s smile fell.

“Excuse me, but, _what_?”

Savitar shrugged. “Barry is acting weird.”

“Uhuh…”

“He is like an overly attached octopus. Like he is worried that I’m going to leave him.”

“Okay…..and how exactly you ended up with PTSD as your diagnosis….?”

“His track record is filled with people abandoning or leaving him,” Savitar started, counting on his fingers, and was completely oblivious to Frost’s amused expression. “First, his dad committed suicide. Then, his mom was locked up in an asylum. After that, his nice foster mom ran off with another man. Also, his Iris left him too,” his lips curled to a grim line at this, his next words came out in a low hiss, “…and the superhero community abandoned him, you know, when they left him rot in prison for crime they didn’t even bother to investigate.”

Frost’s breath hitched. She didn’t even know half of that.

She knew that this Barry had experienced prison, but she didn’t know that he was abandoned there by people he would have once considered friends.

Christ. That explained Barry’s obsession in wiping out every single one of heroes from this Earth.

That was a deep-set grudge there.

“…he ought to have some issues after all of those, right?”

Frost wanted to be a good friend and did a proper examination on Barry’s mental health after hearing this. However, she also knew that as much as Savitar’s assumption was temptingly logical, she also noticed that Barry’s weird behaviours were centred around Savitar and most likely stemmed from jealousy and denial rather than his traumatic past.

Thus, she decided to keep Barry’s mental health in her KIV files for the moment and observe her friend for a little longer.

In the meantime, she might as well tease this obviously-in-denial couple.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” she said, and that was the truth. Standing up, she smoothed her hands over his jacket and patted his shoulders. “But, there are anecdotal evidence that therapy puppy would help someone dealing with PTSD.”

Needless to say, Savitar’s face was perplexed and disgusted.

“Puppy?”

“Yep.”

“Frost, we are _villains_.”

“Some supervillains have cats.”

“Cats are from hell. Puppies are from the land of goodness and fluff.”

Frost schooled her face to an unimpressed doctor expression. She placed her hands on her hips, staring blankly at him as she deadpanned;

“Do you want to help Barry or not?”

Savitar’s shoulders sagged and he reluctantly nodded. “Where do I find therapy puppy anyway?” he scowled, looking even less excited about the idea. “Can you imagine how ruined our image would be if I walked into a vet and signed adoption papers for a therapy puppy?”

“Well, we could always steal one from another Earth to not ruin our image here…”

Frost could figuratively see the bulb lit up in Savitar’s head.

“Good idea,” he actually smiled a bit, looking happier now that he didn’t have to adopt the puppy on his own. “I’m calling Cold.”

And whoosh, he was gone from her sight, leaving scattered papers and a trail of lightning behind.

Frost snorted in amusement, tapping on the keyboard of her computer to hack into Savitar’s multiverse communicator.

She wasn't going to miss out on the entertainment.

Cold always have the most candid reactions after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very slowly working on the updates for my Baby Steps story. Writing this one actually help me getting my grooves back. And thank you for Rili and fantasylover4evr for the comments. And you who left kudos and read this one! Your supportive feedback actually help me a lot. Thank you so much.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this update.
> 
> Tell me your thoughts~ They encourage me.


	5. Cold I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Cold received the most riddiculous job he had ever been tasked to....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Snart would have two chapters. Enjoy the first one~
> 
> Un-betaed. Read at your own risk.

On Earth-14, the 26-years-old Leonard Snart was known as Cold and was a famous thief.

He was the type of thief that treated heist like a show and occasionally sent out invitations to police and his victims before he robbed them. Internet community loved him. His fans went crazy at his heists. Police hated his guts. Some of his victims were annoyed with his arrogance, while the other were among his biggest fans. He was a successful thief. He was filthy rich. He worked on commissions too, so his phone usually received calls from clients that wanted him to steal something for them.

3 years ago, a burning messenger from another Earth recruited him into the Flash’s army.

He helped the speedster won the war, receiving an upgraded weapon in the process and also a long list of contact with criminals throughout the multiverses. Ever since then, his client range had widened through the infinite number of Earths in the multiverses.

Thus, when his multiverse communicator rang, he expected to receive a cool job like stealing from alien spaceship, ot to steal an artifact from a museum 50 years in the past or something of similar standards. Excited, he picked up the call, and was instantly greeted with a rather harsh demand;

“I want you to steal a therapy puppy.”

That was not something he had expected to hear. _Ever_.

Cold stared at his communicator, his mind reeled back to the numerous acquaintances he had made throughout the multiverse, trying to distinguish whose voice was that. The voice sounded like Savitar, but….it can’t be, right?

_Puppy?_

What the actual fuck? Did he hear that right?

“Cold? You there? I want you to steal a therapy puppy for—”

“Sorry, wrong number.”

Then, he quickly switched off his communicator and tossed it onto the crate they used as coffee table.

Heatwave stopped tinkering with whatever engine he was currently working on and stared at Cold with a disinterest look. Golden Glider, on the other hand, quickly closed the art magazine she was browsing through and leant over the armrest, a Cheshire grin on her face.

“Who is that Lenny? Your missus?”

“Nope. Wrong number.”

“Oh, reaaaallllyyyyy??” She sang-song, her grin grew saccharine. “You’re being awfully polite to the chick for a wrong number.”

“It’s not a chick.”

Heatwave snorted, returning to his project without another word.

“Lenny, come on,” Golden Glider pleaded, scrunching her face in an attempt to placate her brother. “I promise to not ruin your date.”

Cold sighed. “It’s not a girl, nor my date.”

“Oh, Lenny, I don’t mind if you date a man!”

Cold visibly looked like he was about to pull his hair off, if he has any. 

Which he didn’t. Unfortunately.

Though, before he could do anything else, a blue swirling vortex erupted in the middle of their safehouse and a trail of lightning sped out of it. There was the ever familiar whoosh of air that left numbing tingles on their skin and thoroughly ruined Glider's hair as Savitar skidded to a stop right in front of her, holding up Cold’s communicator in one hand, an annoyed grimace stretched across his scarred feature.

“How dare you,” he hissed, crushing the phone in his palm.

Cold rolled his eyes. “You’re going to replace that, Savvi.”

Savitar snorted, unimpressed. He stepped closer towards Cold, arms crossed, the muscle underneath his good eye twitched, the annoyance was evident in his expression.

“No one hung up when God is calling.”

“Savvi, I’m not even religious,” Cold huffed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Heatwave snickered. “And you ain’t God, speedy.”

Savitar clicked his tongue, tilting his head slightly to the side as if contemplating an assault but was distracted from his thoughts when Golden Glider stepped into his view, eyes narrowed as she stared into his mismatched eyes. Her gaze went up and down the length of his body, before she returned to his annoyed glaring mismatched eyes.

“What?” he scowled.

Golden Glider ignored him but instead directed her glare to her brother.

“Lenny, where did you find these hot guys?!” She half-shrieked, pointing one finger at Savitar’s face, the tip of her manicured nail was millimetres away from his nose. “First is that fire guy. Then, that Barry dude. And the other day, the guy from Earth-32—”

“Earth-34,” Cold corrected, holding one hand up in a patronizing way. “And please do not say that you want to fuck Lucas. He is you. Your doppelganger from that Earth. Lisa, that is disturbing.”

“I fucked Barry—”

“NOT helping, Savvi,” Cold glared at Savitar, hand already went to the gun strapped to his thigh—a clear warning. He didn't need Savitar's input that would surely destroyed the innocence of his barely-legal baby sister. “And please shut up. We all know that it is the other way around.”

Savitar clicked his tongue. “Details, details. So picky.”

“I had to. It’s my job to focus on details.”

Savitar rolled his eyes. “You up for the job or what?”

Cold already felt the headache creeping in. “Why a puppy?”

“ _Therapy_ puppy,” Savitar corrected, nonchalant.

Cold tried so hard to held in a groan. His sister seemed to be silenced with the situation, seemingly more interested in observing their interaction and digesting the strange information. Heatwave had stopped tinkering with his engine too, now staring at the speedster with a slightly interested look.

“Okay, fine,” Cold finally gave up, waving a dismissive hand in the air. Talking with a speedster and expecting things to make sense was a hard thing to do anyway. “I usually don’t ask why I need to steal something but…,” he exhaled, exasperated. “Why do you need me to kidnap a therapy puppy?”

“For Barry.”

That didn’t make any more sense.

Although Heatwave seemed to perk up in interest upon that answer, Cold held up a hand to stop the barrage of questions from his partner as he bowed his head, his brows scrunched up at the centre of his forehead. 

“You know what, I don’t even want to know,” he said firmly, honestly so done with the speedster’s shenanigans.

“Oh, but I do,” Heatwave interjected, wiping his greasy hand with a rag and left his project behind. “The old man needs a therapy puppy?”

Savitar shrugged, his face fell to a complete poker face. “Just get the mutt, will you?”

“Sure, sure.”

Savitar actually cracked a somewhat relieved smile upon hearing that. Satisfied, he tossed a small pouch to Cold, who caught it with minimal effort. Cold tipped his head upon feeling the weight of the pouch, a smirk graced his face.

“Thanks. You’re too generous.”

Savitar snorted. “Deliver the mutt in two days and I’ll give you the other half.”

“Aye, boss.”

With a satisfied nod, Savitar disappeared into another blue vortex, leaving the trio alone. Golden Glider curiously poked on the pouch, seeming to be bewildered with the odd kind of payment.

“What’s in there?” she asked.

“With that size, I’m guessing gold pieces,” Heatwave smirked, returning to his project. “I love working with them.”

“Easy job, good pay,” Cold agreed. “We should thank Barry for enforcing the rules of using gold as multiverse currency.”

“Why not cash?” Golden Glider interjected, though she did pick up a gold piece, bringing it up to the light and admired its shine. “Not that I’m complaining or anything….”

Cold snorted.

“Some Earths actually have a cat on their cash bills, Lisa.”

Lisa’s baffled wide-eyed-are-you-fucking-kidding-me expression was the absolute gold though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more chapters before the end of this one~ Another chapter for Cold, a few of Barry's doppelganger, Deathstorm and lastly Barry himself. This was strangely relaxing to write. Now, if only I can transfer this mood to my other stories...
> 
> R&R people~! It keeps me alive.


	6. Bolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny POV of Barry's and Savitar's adoptive love child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my poor attempt trying to write from an animal's POV. It's very short.
> 
> Un-betaed, so read at your own risk.

Humans were scary.

They took away his mother. They separated him from his siblings. They poked sharp things into his little body. They electrocuted him every night. They kept feeding him nasty stuff that hurt him everywhere.

In short, humans were scary.

Thus, in order to not get hurt, he trained himself to obey every command without any fuss. He knew that he was not ordinary pup. Not after the things that the humans had done to him. He could read human’s writings—he spent his time in the lab reading the stuffs they had written on the glass boards or the small font on the scattered papers. He could calculate the equations on the board—and knew exactly how much of those nasty liquids they were going to put into his body. He could read the calendar and the clock, and knew that he hasn’t grown in 5 years and that he took only an hour to heal a broken leg, something that the humans said as a miracle—that he has slow aging and rapid healing.

He wasn’t a normal puppy.

He understood human’s words. He knew what they wanted him to do. _Sit_ , and he would sit. _Roll over_ , and he would roll over. And on and on. He socialized and played with other animals nicely so that the humans won’t hit him. He knew that he could fight, but he was scared.

The only solace he had was that little boy from the grey building—his only friend.

The little boy was always hurt. Sometimes the boy came to him with blood and wounds all over his body and he would spend a whole hour trying to lick the blood clean. Some other time, the boy was barely recognizable—being either deathly pale like he was drained off his blood, or he was bruised so badly that he was mostly a patchwork of blue and black bruises.

But the boy never cried. The boy would come to their meeting spot with a bright smile and half of his lunch, sharing the food with him before they played together. 

By sunset, when the big humans came to capture the boy again, all of the boy's injuries have already gone.

He knew that the boy was like him too—they were special.

Thus, he always walk through his cage and waited for the boy, his tail wagged happily between his legs.

But the boy no longer come. He waited for the boy for a long time. Hiding underneath the drain when it rained, curling up in the cold when it snowed, biting and fighting the humans who tried to capture him again till they gave up on him as he waited and waited for his only friend.

The boy never came. 

Perhaps the boy had died. He didn’t know. He hoped not, but the injuries he always saw on that frail little body made it difficult to conclude otherwise. Heartbroken and depressed, he decided to leave the place, with only the memories of old friendship and the warmth in his friend’s beautiful green eyes as his only comfort.

It was the fourteenth sunset after he left that horrible place when he met human’s kindness once again. The man that found him had spoken to him in the gentlest voice he had heard adult human used as the man wrapped him in the softest fabric he had ever felt and brought him home to a dark yet warm place. There were two other humans there—a female one who instantly cooed and fed him, and the gruff big human whose hands were too big to be so gentle while bathing him.

When he was warm and dry, he curled up on the first human’s lap, listening in to their conversation.

“So, what is so special about therapy dog anyway? How to differentiate them with normal dog?” the female one said, frowning deeply.

“Google said that therapy dog has to be friendly, obedient, vaccinated, and yada yada yada…”

They went silent for a moment.

“I heard an unspoken ‘but’ there, Lenny…”

“I called Frost. She is Barry’s doctor, so I figured she would have the details of what kind of dog Barry would need…”

“And what does the doc said?”

“Apparently, Barry doesn’t even need a therapy dog. She was teasing Savitar and he took it waaay too seriously.”

“Oh, my…That is so cute….”

There was a beat of silence, before the man spoke again.

“Lisa, NO. I do not approve you falling for any of them.”

“If Savvi cares so much about Barry to ask you to steal a dog, I’m pretty sure that they both are taken…,” she snorted, lips curled to a sulky pout, “….by each other.”

There was a booming laugh as the big gruff human entered the room.

“If you want an obedient mutt, we already have one here,” the big human said, pointing at him. “Savitar won’t notice.”

He looked up at the man whose lap he was curling on. The man smiled at him, tipping his head thoughtfully but it was the female who had spoken.

“We could arrange a full medical check-up on him tomorrow and then you can drop this sweetheart off at the speedsters’.”

And that was how he ended up curled up in the arms that were far too warm for a normal human being, still dizzy after such a weird way to travel.

What was that swirling vortex, anyway?

“He is surprisingly docile…,” the warm human muttered, cradling him close to his chest. “I think Barry would like him. Good job, Cold.”

“Always a pleasure to work with you, Savitar.”

The humans exchanged a couple more words and a jiggling little bag, before his surrounding suddenly blurred, and the next thing he knew, he was in a completely different place. It looked like a bedroom, so similar like the drawings in the torn stolen books his old friend often read with him, only that it seemed nicer. The black and gold scheme of the room made it looked luxurious.

And it was very, very warm.

He wished that his old friend could be with him here too, in this comfortable warmth.

However, before he could ponder even more, the sounds of water hitting the floor died down and the door at the corner slid open, releasing warm steam out. Another human walked out, with only a towel round his waist and another towel draped over his dripping hair. The man looked up towards them, and he suddenly felt his heart twisted.

Those intelligent sharp green eyes were painfully familiar.

“Savitar?” the man spoke, confusion evident in his voice.

“This is your puppy.”

“My what now?”

“Your puppy. To help you….”

The man that was holding him went silent, though his heart beat way faster than earlier. He had to wonder if that was even healthy. His old friend’s heartbeats were the same fluttering speed too but it wasn’t the same as other humans. There was a crackle of lightnings and the other man was suddenly in front of them. Those damp arms gently took him away from his current human, cradling him to his chest in a way that invoked so many bittersweet memories.

Why? Why was this human felt so similar to his old friend?

“Thank you, Savitar,” the man hummed, leaning over to plan a kiss on the scarred cheek of the other human. “Frost told me about this. You’re looking for a puppy to help me with my paranoia?”

“Eh, what the—? Um, yeah, your _paranoia_ ….”

“Thank you. I’ll take care of him well.”

There was a soft sigh of relief from the scarred human. “What would you name him?”

The human tipped his head thoughtfully before deciding;

“Bolt.”

There was a beat of silence.

“ _Bolt_ ,” the other human repeated.

“Yep.”

“Barry, you suck at naming things.”

“He’s _ours_. The Flash. Savitar. Lightning is our symbol—so, Bolt is the most appropriate name for him.”

The scarred human sighed again, this time more affectionately. “Whatever made you happy, old man.”

So, he had a name now. Bolt. He kinda liked it.

He never had a name before.

Bolt was a nice name. He was a happy puppy now.

Though, his happiness switched to sadness when painfully familiar warm hands stroke his fur, so similar yet so different—the same warmth from differently sized hands, but still careful and loving like those of his old friend's.

He really missed his old friend.

But life has to go on. He had a new human to serve and love now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is emotionally difficult to write as compared to the rest of the chapters. I don't actually plan to write from Bolt's POV but this just randomly happen. Maybe Barry's POV is on the way, about what he thought of when Savvi randomly dropped the puppy on him like this.
> 
> By the way, the puppy is from Cold's Earth. So, the boy was not Barry. And there was a reason why the puppy/dog did not appear in the previous installments which were set years from this fic's timeline.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Read and review, loves~ They keep me encouraged.


	7. Lena Allen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Say hello to Earth-34's ice queen. And also her husband, yet another Barry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beated. Read at your own risk.

Her husband avoided this Earth like a plague. 

And she didn’t even blame him. Here, his doppelgangers were all either evil supervillains or some morally fucked up human beings.

She, on the other hand, merely avoided it like a common cold. She actually had real friends here.

So, needless to say, they always argued whenever they had to pay a visit to Dark Earth. And it was always him who would start whining first. Her husband, the Flash—the fastest man on their Earth, the man who took hundreds ice-pick sized needles being impaled to his body without even breaking to pained tears, the man who got his back broken by an evil speedster but managed to run again not a month after that—yep, he was the one who whined first.

“Can we, like, go home right _now_?” he whined, tugging on the sleeves of her oversized parka as they stood at the entrance of the breech room.

“Honey, _please_.”

“Seriously, why are we here?”

“I missed Frost. And I don’t want to neglect sharing the big news to my best friend. She is gonna be the godmother for our baby, Barr.”

“I do not agree to that.”

“Baby, you chose Felix and Olivia as our kid’s godparents without consulting me. So, it’s only fair for our kid to have godparents from the villain side of the universe too.”

“Lena…”

He sounded so guilty and dejected. Thus, naturally, Lena decided to horrify him even more;

“And I’m asking either Flash or Savitar to be the godfather.”

There was a beat of silence as he stared at her with the look of disbelief and betrayal.

“BABY NO.”

“They aren’t that bad, Barr.”

“I hate you, Lena.”

“No, Barr, honey. You love me.”

Her husband gave her a dirty look. Lena sighed and took off one of her gloves, lacing her gloveless fingers into his warm hand as she tugged him upstairs. They bumped into the evil Flash himself while navigating the intricate corridors of the building, the man barely show any hints of shock upon seeing them under his roof. Instead, he smiled at them, looking all like the slightly more mature version of her husband—an adorable harmless sight with the little puppy cradled to his chest.

“Lena. _Barry_ ,” he greeted, though his attention seemed to be more on the puppy than them. “It's a pleasure seeing you here. It has been a long time.”

Lena could feel her husband froze beside him as the puppy affectionately licked his doppelganger’s fingers.

“IS THAT A PUPPY?!” Annnnnnnddd her husband had to embarrass her by yelling the obvious.

“Uh, no,” the Flash raised an eyebrow, looking completely unimpressed. “It’s an alien Mardon found in a UFO crash site at Tokyo.”

“Oh,” her husband breathed out, sounding oddly relieved. “That make senses.”

There was a beat of silence before the evil Flash barked out a sharp laugh. “You’re _adorable_.”

Her husband understandably did not appreciate the comment. “What?”

Lena resisted the urge to slap her husband’s head.

“You do realise that it was a sarcasm, right?" the Flash smiled that saccharine smile again, running his fingers over the caramel fur of the puppy. "This is no alien.”

“Wait, what—so that’s a real puppy?”

Sometimes Lena had to wonder why she married this man.

“Yep.”

“But you’re a supervillain!”

“That is completely irrelevant to the current issue, kid.”

"But puppies don't fit—"

Lena slapped a palm over her husband’s mouth before he could embarrass her even further. She held her husband in a tight hold, giving a strained plastic smile at the evil Flash. “It is an adorable pup, Flash.”

“Right?” the supervillian agreed easily, cooing to the little ball of fluff like every other normal harmless person. He dropped a kiss over the puppy's head before giving Lena a gentle smile. “Frost is in the lair. I’m sure you know your way around?”

“Seventh floor, only accessible through the west-east elevator. The access pad this month is in the wall between two dragon statues,” she recited by memory, already been here frequent enough to remember the way and the security. “And I know the passcode.”

“Good. Be seeing you then,” the evil Flash smiled, giving her a little wink before he turned around, and walked the opposite way.

If she was hearing his hushed words right, he was about to feed the little pup and put it into its room. Huh, if he had a room for the dog, he didn’t seem like a bad pet owner. Distracted with her thoughts, she didn’t realise that her husband had squirmed his way out of her hold.

“How exactly do you know the way around this place so well?” he questioned, slightly vibrating as he held her shoulders in a tight grip, his face scrunched up to a betrayed frown.

“Honey, my closest female friends are Mich and Frost. Where do you think I went to whenever I said that I’m hanging out with friends…?”

Her dear husband looked positively scandalized.

“I even have the access card,” she deadpanned, tugging him in the direction of the lair.

The evil Flash had given her an access to this lair, since she was a great friend with Killer Frost, and she often visited Frost even before the other woman was recruited by the Flash and moved to this Earth. Heck, Killer Frost was one of her best maid when she married _her Barry_. And although she wasn’t a fan of the evil Flash (as ironic as this might be since she married _the Flash_ ), she has no qualms of inviting him and Savitar to her special days.

They knew how to behave when they weren’t on their Earth.

She had a whole audience of guests to vouch that. They were the most well-behaved guests on her wedding.

(Until the aliens crashed the wedding, of course. But, the speedsters' destructive behaviour after that was excusable.)

Evil Barry was surprisingly a gentleman—the very kind of man that held the door open for the ladies, the man who asked permission before leading a girl to dance, the man whose words had females of all ages blushed and fluttered their lashes at him—the type that girls swooned over. Savitar, on the other hand, actually knew how to behave like a normal human being. He smiled and socialized beautifully, charming all of her female guests, and even few hardened men of law like Captain Singh and Judge Marlon without so much of effort. He was so charming that even after her husband’s week-long effort to explain Savitar’s background, her baby-sister-in-law was still swooning over the man. 

Wallace and her Barry weren’t happy with it. The brothers grew up together ever since Joe adopted her husband, and once they discovered Iris’ existence just before Cece’s death, they both have been fiercely protective over her.

To have their sweet, sweet innocent baby sister (though Lena begs to differ—she knew Iris still street-racing from time to time) to fall for Savitar out of all people had hit the red alarm in both her husband’s and her brother-in-law’s head.

Thus, Lena thought that she totally deserved this ice-cold glare from her husband upon seeing the sight in front of them, as they stood awkwardly in front of the curtained booth in the centre of the lair.

“How fast can you run?”

“Faster than your big brother.”

"Really? But Barry is very fast!"

"Sweetie, I'm the God of Speed. I could outrun your brother in no time."

There was a giggle, and yep, that was Iris fucking West, her spunky baby-sister-in-law, who was half-sitting on Savitar’s lap. How did she even breached through to this Earth and gained access to this high-security hangout lair was a mystery of its own. But, fuck it, the kid was in a huge trouble. Lena didn’t even have to look to her side to know that her husband was fuming.

“Iris,” her husband growled, his voice strained. “What are you doing here?”

“Barry! Lena!” Iris finally noticed their presence and promptly scooted over until she was properly seated beside Savitar instead of over his lap. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“ _Iris_ ,” man, Lena had never heard her husband’s voice _that_ strained. And that was saying something since she had witnessed him during his darkest, angriest moments. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?!” He growled through gritted teeth, giving a disdainful look to the overly calm Savitar before alternating it to angry disappointed glare at Iris.

He was fuming so bad that his face flushed deep red in anger.

Though, her Barry wasn’t the only one fuming.

“Yeah, I was wondering about the same thing.”

The evil Flash was fuming too. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t there a second ago.

But woah, she didn’t know that the evil Flash could emit such deadly aura despite the sweet smile on his face. Talk about cinnamon rolls that could actually kill you…

"She accidentally breached here. I found her wandering around, looking lost as fuck," Savitar grinned, voice terribly smooth as if he was provoking both Barry. "What kind of a man I would be if I let her wandered aimlessly in place that could easily kill you if you so much take a wrong step?"

"Funny how that kindness of yours ended up with her on your lap, Savitar," the Flash drawled, his face coldly unreadable.

"Awh, Barry. You know I can be kind when I want to."

Her husband, on the other hand, instantly tugged Iris by the wrist and shielded her with his body. "She is not your Iris, Savitar."

"I know," the scarred speedster hummed, completely unfazed. "I would've killed her on the spot if she is _my_ Iris," Savitar's grin turned malicious as he tilted his head at the evil Flash. "And so would _him_. Both of us hated Iris West so much."

Iris peeked over her foster brother's shoulders, a confused frown graced her face. "Why?"

Her question remained unanswered as the three speedsters remained frozen, glaring at each other.

But needless to say, that the evil Flash seemed the angriest among the three versions of Barry Allen.

Was the Flash mad because of the way Iris was clinging to Savitar earlier, or was he mad because Savitar authorized Iris into their lair without his knowledge?

Lena observed the evil Flash, noting that his angry gaze followed Savitar when the other speedster was dragged away by Ronnie (who swooped in with a huge smile like the peacemarker he wasn't), leaving the four of them here—Lena observing the situation, her husband nagging to Iris while the evil Flash stood frozen in place. The older man no longer heeded any attention to Iris but instead had his attention distracted to the way Ronnie’s hands seemed provocatively frisky on Savitar.

Lena didn’t know if that was a good sign or not.

But if the conspiring smiles on Killer Frost and Cold's faces were any clue, she had a hunch that it would be super entertaining to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always wanted to do a genderbend Earth. Hahahahhahhahah.


	8. Cold II

His trips to the Earth-0 (most commonly known as Dark Earth among those who have visited it) has always been amusing.

The idea of Earth-0, where criminals like him could roam free out in open without worries of getting caught was an unthinkable fantasy he never thought could become a reality.

But Barry made it possible.

Cold didn’t know the older man’s history, but Barry was an odd man. The speedster hated heroes and justice to the very core of his being, but there was still a shred of mercy in him that somehow protected the citizens of the cities. There was a set of rules that dictated a sliver of safety to the public citizens who do not antagonize him, while any unauthorized act of terror would be punished instantly.

The Flash wasn’t afraid of committing public execution.

Cold honestly still had nightmares of his bones and internal organs being phased out of his body one by one.

The speedster was cold and firm, manipulative and cruel—always in perfect control of everything.

Thus, to witness the ever cool-headed man being distracted and lost control was highly amusing.

“You notice it too, huh?” he heard a sultry hum from beside him, smirking lazily as he accepted the cold drink the woman offered.

“It’s difficult to miss. Barry is not….,” he drawled, his smirk grew bigger. “… _subtle_.”

“The glaring and saccharine smile are completely overkill,” Frost giggled, smiling at the sight of young Miss West hiding behind her brother and sister-in-law. “Credits to Miss West. She knew danger when she saw one.”

“You know, I just noticed that I kinda look hot as a woman,” Cold randomly commented, nodding to his gender-reversed doppelganger when her identical blue eyes met his. She nodded back at him, and he raised his glass in her direction with a smile.

Frost smiled at their interaction, waving to Lena when her friend finally noticed her. Lena gave her a nervous smile, signalling that she would be over in a minute. The former Lena Snart was calmly handling the tensed situation, standing in between her livid husband, terrified sister-in-law and the distracted Barry.

“Barry is in an increasingly edgy and possessive mood these days,” Frost noted. “It is a miracle that no one has died yet.”

“Mel was chased out of town, though.”

“Technically, she resigned and remained in Keys where she owned a house there—”

“Come on, Frosty. Barry basically fired the girl because of Savitar.”

Frost opened her mouth to respond, before she shut it tight, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

“His jealousy is amusingly predictable and childish.”

“Still didn’t stop your husband from being all over the guy,” Cold hummed, nodding towards Deathstorm, who was standing far too close to Savitar. “I noticed that his hand is… _frisky_.”

They exchanged a knowing glance before both burst to unison laughter.

“Savitar is temptingly sensitive and pliant once you know where to touch.”

“ _Temptingly_.”

Frost side-eyed him. “Don’t tell me that you have never wanted to bang that ass.”

“Guilty,” Cold drawled. “Do you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She shot back, grinning madly.

He huffed a silent laugh.

“Not that Savitar noticed his own reaction to physical touches anyway…,” this time, Frost’s voice took a serious professional tone, her eyes narrowed at the way Savitar leant a little too much to Deathstorm’s palm.

“I sense a professional explanation,” Cold toasted his glass in her direction, eyes still fixed on Savitar. “Impress me, doc.”

“People who have been isolated and starved of affectionate touches tend to naturally respond positively to physical contact,” she hummed, downing her whole glass. “He has been alone in the isolation of speedforce for centuries before he met Barry. To manipulate that _starvation_ is way too easy by this point.”

“You do realise that Barry can, and _will_ kill you, right?” Cold raised an eyebrow, shivering slightly upon noticing how white Barry’s knuckles had been, those lethal hands curled to two tight fists. “You’re playing a dangerous game right now, Frosty….”

Frost chuckled and shrugged. “Ronnie and I made it a competition to see which one of us could crack Barry first. He is winning so far.”

Cold nodded, staring thoughtfully at the oblivious way Savitar was allowing Deathstorm touching him—friendly touches that skirted the boundary of a friend and a flirting attempt—and to the way Barry’s expression consistently darkened like he was on the verge of flashing to the man and phased Deathstorm’s bones out of his body. Cold casted a quick glance around the lair, noting a few familiar faces of his acquaintances, and even some of Barry’s own doppelgangers in between the crowd.

“Do the rest noticed _this_?” he asked, gesturing randomly around the lair.

Frost rolled her eyes. “ _Everyone_ but Savitar noticed.” 

“He is…,”Cold’s brows shot up to his hairline, looking for the most politically correct term other than ‘blind’ before deciding to be straight-up blunt, “… strangely _oblivious_.”

Frost snorted. “He managed to convince himself that this whole possessive glaring thing is the result of Barry’s traumatic past and fear of abandonment.”

“Ah.”

“It is frustrating,” Frost grumbled, narrowing her eyes in the general direction of her husband and Savitar. “What the fuck is wrong with Savitar that he seemed so sceptical of the idea that someone actually loved him?!”

“So _that_ is all of this about?” 

They both turned their heads towards the voice, Frost’s smile softened as she shifted to hug her friend.

“Lena~” she greeted. “I see that your husband left you alone this time?”

“He has to send Iris home and have her grounded.”

“Wait, he has the power to ground her?” Cold interjected, remembering the Earth-34 Barry Allen whom he had a somewhat adoring-annoyed relationship with.

Lena shrugged. “Wallace is out of town, reporting for Olivia’s election in Star City. Joe is on honeymoon…so yeah, he has the power to ground her. Not that anyone would disagree anyway,” she stated matter-or-factly.

Frost nodded thoughtfully, before she shifted mood and grinned to her friend. “How’s married life?”

“ _Terrific_.”

“Oooh, I sense gossip,” Frost grinned, her lips curled to a sultry smirk while Cold snorted and rolled his eyes, disinterested. “Does Mr. Superhero Hubby is not living up to the expectation?”

“If Savitar is not _that_ oblivious, I could’ve bonded with him about our respective Barry,” Lena grumbled, her cold gun clunk when she threw herself to lean against the bar. “On how ridiculously possessive and jealous they are even when they deny it.”

“Your husband keeps glaring at random strangers that are too close to you, too?” Cold hummed, hunching his shoulders so that the three of them formed a conspiring gossiping circle right there at the bar.

“All Barry Allen is the same.”

Cold chortled. “I don’t think that your husband would agree with that, Lena.”

“That,” Lena hissed, pointing at the way Barry flitted casually between Savitar and Deathstorm, the older speedster had his arm around Savitar’s waist in mere seconds. “Look at that. Same tactic. Same strategy. It’s annoying.”

“And yet Savitar remained oblivious,” Frost’s sigh was exasperated.

“Savvi overthinks everything,” Cold snorted dryly. “His brain is constantly conspiring. Barry's possessiveness isn't that weird, strategically speaking, as having a lethal and unyielding arm candy submitting to you is a major power show trick in our business.”

“Power show my ass…,” Lena grumbled. “I’m willing to bet my husband’s speed that in about five seconds from now the Flash would have Savitar pressed up against a wall in like a possessive kiss or something—”

There was a trail of lightning and whoosh of air and the next thing they knew; Lena’s prediction came true.

Barry had Savitar pressed up against the wall, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. Savitar seemed to be stunned in shock at first but it wasn’t long before he responded, hands fisting tight in Barry’s hair before one of them trailed lower, clutching tightly on the dark fabric of Barry's turtleneck. Their kiss seemed _electrifying_ —like, literally electrifying with all those lightnings crackling everywhere—and Barry seemed to be determined to replace Deathstorm’s touches with his own. His hands explored every inch of Savitar’s body, right there in front of everyone as if he was making a public statement.

“I fucking told you so.”

Cold and Frost burst out to a laughter upon hearing the muffled grumble of one Lena Allen.

"50 gold pieces that it won't take too long before Barry fully cracked and made their relationship exclusive," Cold drawled, smirking to both females. "A month, tops."

"2 weeks. Give or add a few days," Lena offered, her own lips mirrored her male doppelganger's smirk.

"I don't think that he would last longer with me and Ronnie interfering and harrassing Savitar," Frost scrunched up her nose.

"You two wanna bet?" Lena grinned.

Her two icy counterparts exchanged a glance before breaking to a similar conspiring grin.

"Sure," they agreed in unison. 

"Both of you are going to lose. Ronnie and I have lots of strategies to crack Barry," Frost scoffed, her platinum hair bounced as she moved, as if she was flipping them.

"Don't be too confident, Frosty," Lena taunted. "Among the three of us, I'm the one who knows Barry Allen's general behaviour the best."

"Awwh, I don't know, ladies....I still think Barry is too romantically constipated to crack too early."

"Suit yourself, Cold."

"Not on my side, Lena? What kind of doppelganger are you?"

"The one that will win this bet. _Mrs Allen_ right here, remember? I know how Barry Allen behaves. This bet is _mine_."

However, before any of the other two ice-powered villains could respond, another voice piped in, sounding completely confused yet intrigued;

"What bet?"

Cold tilted his head slightly to the side, shifting a bit so that the newcomer could join them. He caught the sharp green eyes of the man—yet another one of Barry's more deranged doppelganger that occasionally hanged out here—and smirked.

"We're betting on Barry and Savitar. On how long it would take before they go fully exclusive to each other," Frost purred, leaning a bit too close to the deranged doppelganger of her friend, running one manicured finger down the chain of the golden cross that dangled off his left ear. "Wanna join the bet, _Ripper_?" 

"Sounds fun. Why the hell not?"


	9. The Scarlet Ripper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an infamous serial killer, this type of fear and ecstasy was something new to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a mention of necrophilia. Skip this chapter if you're uncomfortable with that.
> 
> Un-betaed. Read at your own risk.

On his Earth, he was known with two names.

The first was Dr.Allen, used by his colleagues, or Professor Allen, as used by his students. There was also a longer version that they used to address him in almost every formal event that he attended as VIP guest, which was Dr. Bartholomew Henry Allen, MD. 

A boring name for the good-natured doctor and faculty member of Central City University.

The second name was his favourite— _The Scarlet Ripper_.

A flambouyant name for an equally flambouyant man. 

He didn’t coin the name himself, but he loved it. Red in general was his favourite colour, but he liked the shade of scarlet the best. It reminded him of the beauty of his specimens when he had ripped them open and laid their beautiful insides out. There were so many shades of red in those beautiful specimens, but he liked to sum it as pretty, pretty _scarlet_.

The gorgeous reporter who was tasked with the case of his murderous serial terror seemed to agree with him and coined the name for him. 

Iris West was a determined and daring reporter. 

And bonus points to her because she was drop dead gorgeous.

He still felt regretful and sad that their relationship was completely one-sided. Here he was, genuinely interested in her, falling for every little details and quirks of hers—the little crinkle of her eyes when she smiled, the way her hair bounced when she tilted her head in confusion at his cryptic words, the increased pitch of her voice when she got too passionate while talking about her job, the fierce light in her eyes when she got a lead to catch him, the softness of her hand when she held his own, the warmth of her hugs, the breathtaking beauty he witnessed every morning when she woke up next to him, the sweet smell she seemed to emit wherever she went....the list could went on and on. 

In conclusion, he liked her a lot.

But she only approached and dated him because he was the top suspect on her list.

She had never loved him. He was just another headlines for her. 

It was very heart-breaking when he discovered this little fact. The way she confronted him was nothing like the lover he thought he had. Her words were sharp and triumphal, wounding his heart for each syllable.

Even after two years, his poor, poor heart hasn’t healed from that wound. She had changed him.

And when he laid her inside out, displaying her scarlet beauty to the world, she seemed to wake another side within him. 

Ever since that faithful night, his sex life was completely ruined. Warm living body no longer excite him.

She had changed him.

He craved for limp bodies that were unresponsive underneath his touches, the open unseeing eyes fueled his lust—sending jolts of arousal straight to his groin. There was something oddly satisfying and exciting about making love with the dead, and gosh, nobody had ever told him that cold dead lips would taste so good against his warm living one.

Yep. His sex life was ruined. Warm living body no longer excite him.

But, there were few exceptions.

Oddly enough, he felt the same thrill and excitement when the body underneath him thrummed uncontrollably in pleasure. The fierce hot lips that fought for dominance tasted as good as the cold dead ones of his past lovers. And there was something oddly satisfying and exciting about screwing his own doppelganger. The electrifying sparks when his partner vibrated a bit too enthusiastically, and the thrill of danger about being the fragile one between the two of them had sent jolts of arousal straight to his throbbing length.

His original intention seducing Savitar was merely to test Frost's hypothesis and to test the situation of the bet that Cold had going around.

He wasn't expecting things to escalate to this point.

The fucking bet be damned, it has been a long time since living human aroused him to this point.

“Geez, Ripper,” Savitar huffed a choked laugh. “When was the last time you got laid?”

He tilted his head, mocking a pondering look. “With a living human? I don’t know. Two years ago, I think?”

The scarred speedster burst out laughing.

“Holy hell, Ripper. You’re fucked up.”

“Do not judge my sex life,” he scowled back, unimpressed.

“You poor boy...," the mocking coo was accompanied with a gentle nip on his ear, slick tongue licked the lobe before tugging on the golden chain of the earring that he only wore for his nightjob. "You should have come to me,” Savitar grinned, flipping their positions in whirlwind of blurred movements, now he was the one having Ripper pinned underneath him. “I’m _always_ in the mood for sex.”

“I thought that you had your hands full with Barry.”

“There’s always room for variety,” Savitar hummed, leaning down for a bite, purposely sending a gentle spark of speedforce into the serial killer, invoking a needy mewl from his human counterpart. “It’s not like Barry and I are anything exclusive.”

“How sure are you he won’t kill me?” the question came out in a shaky moan, far too vulnerable for his liking but damn, he had forgotten how it felt to have a responsive partner that could touch him and render him breathless. It took him a lot to gather his brainpower to form proper sentences, and even when he did, his voice was a pitch too high than normal, “I’m no speedster. A normal human being has no chance against you.”

That caused Savitar to halt the assaults on his skin, the scarred face then came into his field of vision, fierce green eye and unseeing milky eye stared down at him, sending shivers down his spine at how those eyes looked like a balance of life and death. Perhaps the man was indeed a combination of two opposites. Perfect and scarred, mortal and god, powerful but vulnerable, attentive yet oblivious—Savitar was a walking juxtaposition.

Savitar was beautiful.

“Why would he kill you?” the scarred speedster murmured, confused but uncaring as if he was just humouring his partner.

Ripper deadpanned back.

“Aren’t you two, are like, _lovers_?”

The speedster stared at him for a moment of silence before he barked out a sharp, almost snarky laugh.

“It’s just the sex. And power show,” Savitar snorted, there was a flicker of emotion inside his mismatched eyes and he instantly averted eye contact, his fists curled tightly on Ripper's spread thigh. “My own original threw me away, and Barry picked me up when I was dying and defeated. Why would _he_ cares about someone else's trash?”

Ripper would’ve thought that Savitar was being sarcastic if not because of the genuine resignation in those mismatched eyes.

Holy fuck. Frost was right. 

Savitar was completely oblivious.

Ripper could write a whole thesis of reasons Barry Allen would care about Savitar, complete with APA style citations—including but not limited to the fact that without Savitar, the Flash wouldn’t be able to win the war against both the military and the JL; or to the fact that everyone seemed to notice that the Flash’s paranoia seemed to be reduced whenever Savitar was around; or to the fact that he took care of the damned puppy Savitar gave him like that of his own child even though he hardly had time for that. And did he even need to mention the increasingly agitated behaviour the Flash was displaying recently whenever he saw Savitar being with another person?

They _all_ noticed it. Heck, even the ever clueless and innocent Bartholomew noticed.

How could Savitar NOT notice?

He would’ve pondered on the question but Savitar’s lips felt scorching hot and oh so perfect against his skin that the remaining of his functional brain cells just refused to think and only want to submit to the rare arousal towards a living human. It felt so good. So fucking good. It has been a long time since he was touched, since he was kissed—as there were so little the dead could do—and thus, this felt insanely good. A scratchy groan tore from his throat when his throbbing length was freed, followed by a low hiss when his hypersensitive flesh met the rough fabric of Savitar’s jeans.

“Fuck fuck fuck….”

Savitar grinned down at him.

“Better than a corpse?”

He could only respond to the taunt with a loud affirmative moan.

He was silenced with a searing kiss, the slick muscle that tangled with his own tongue thrummed in gentle vibrations, invoking needy moans that the speedster greedily swallowed. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on the scent of ozone and storm that surrounded the speedster, to the way the thrumming power that radiated from Savitar made his body spasm in complete hunger—yes, he was definitely hungry for more.

He reached out a hand and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling the speedster down for a kiss—hot fierce kiss so different than pliant unresponsive cold one he was used to. The speedster kissed him roughly, a bruising kiss enhanced with his power and inhuman force. There was no care and gentleness in Savitar’s kiss, the power and control were not like a human, so divine and powerful—perhaps the God of Speed meant more than a mere made-up name of intimidation? Ripper didn't know but he was craving it. He felt a tug on his undone pants, a whimper slipped past his lips when his thighs met the cold air as his lower half was stripped naked.

Shit, it has been a long time that he had someone to strip him. A corpse can’t exactly help him out of his clothing after all.

They parted, and while his eyes still glazed with the tears he didn’t notice he had shed, Savitar went straight to lavish his upper half with attention, vibrating tongue mapped lewd lines down his body, nipping and sucking on the sensitive buds he never paid attention to, while the speedster’s hands rubbed gentle circles on his naked hips, inching lower and lower in a painfully slow and deliberate pace.

“Having fun?”

That cold voice almost switched off his arousal right on the spot.

He rolled his eyes to his right—the most that he could do with the way Savitar was holding him still—and was greeted with the sight of the Flash leaning against the doorframe, looking dangerously lethal despite the puppy that curled up in his arms.

Ripper froze in fear. 

How the hell did the Flash still managed to look deadly while cuddling that cute puppy??

And his expression was that of cold gaze that foreshadowed pain and torment too.

_Oh, fuck._

He was a mere powerless human. If Barry decided to kill him, he has no fighting chance at all.

Oblivious to the sudden fear that washed through his partner, Savitar beamed at Barry, hands not stopping their slow trail down the naked hips. Barry’s calculative sharp gaze followed the movements, his breathing seemed too controlled to be normal as he set the puppy down and sauntered towards them.

“I’ve been looking for you,” the Flash murmured, addressing Savitar. “It has been too long since the last time we sparred together.”

Ripper could feel the agitated thrum of energy radiating from the Flash when the man sat right next to his naked thighs.

Savitar tilted his head, seemingly confused at the words before he reached a hand to pull Barry closer for a quick chaste peck on the lips. He let his lips lingered on Barry’s own, a little curl of smirk made its way on his face when he brushed their lips together, whispering softly;

“Let us finish first?”

The Flash didn’t reply, but instead, his gaze fell onto Ripper, twin green orbs were sharp and calculative as if he was contemplating his choices.

Savitar’s smirk grew wider upon seeing that. Deviously, he removed one hand from Ripper’s naked hips, sliding that hand up the Flash’s thigh, creeping high and higher until the Flash visibly sighed, eyes closed when Savitar kissed him again.

“Or why don’t we have fun _together_?” Savitar nipped and pulled on the Flash’s unresponsive lips, tilting his head in Ripper’s direction, a sultry smirk on his face. “Let us made him remember what a living human could do to pleasure him.”

It was a moment of silence before the Flash moved, his belt was unbuckled and wrapped tight around Ripper's wrists in split seconds.

And by then, Ripper was sure of three things;

One, the Flash was going to wreck him till he couldn’t walk.

Two, Savitar was clueless as fuck to the Flash’s feelings.

And three, Frost was going to win the bet.

There was no way in the multiverse the Flash would be able to keep his patience any longer than two weeks with this kind of possessive streak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one question;
> 
> Who wants an extended version of this chapter with 3xBarry threesome smut? Hahahahhahahahha


	10. Special : Extended Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's POV when he found Savitar and Ripper getting it on. Of course he would join in the fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are perverts.
> 
> And as per usual, this is un-betaed, and I was extremely busy this week, so I didn't even reread it. I may reread and redit a few things here and there but for now, read at your own risk.

Barry felt strangely… _lonely_.

Perhaps he was too used to being busy—in between maintaining positive connections with the aliens that had taken interest in the drastic changes he had done to this Earth, and increasing his new power and control—Barry hardly had time to worry about loneliness.

But now that he and the aliens had somehow agreed on exchange programme while his influence has solidified to a prominent power on Earth, he had time to breathe…

…and the loneliness then crept in.

He snorted, curling up to the puppy whose eyes were strangely intelligent, taking comfort in the presence of the little fur ball. It was hilariously ironic. He had laughed—rather mockingly—when Frost said that Savitar went out of his way to ask Cold to steal a therapy puppy for his worsening paranoia, but now he begrudgingly admitted that the pup helped. Holding the puppy put him at ease, gave his hands something to touch and cuddle because for some godforsaken reasons people seemed to care less when he hugged an animal as compared whenever he tried to embrace Savitar.

Savitar, who was happily ignoring him for the past few weeks.

Sure, Barry was a bit busy being an intergalactic diplomat with alien races, but the younger speedster seemed to not notice his absence, proceeding with his life like he didn’t even notice that Barry wasn’t there by his side. And when Barry had free time to spend relaxing in their hangout lair, Savitar continued giving him the disinterested treatment, flitting from one person to another as if he didn’t miss Barry at all.

It was irritating. It was annoying. It was super insulting to Barry’s ego.

“Stupid kid…,” he muttered, his tone a bit too bitter for his own taste.

Bolt whined softly, as if comforting him, his soft fur tickled Barry’s chin when the pup cuddled closer, licking gently on his throat. He let the pup laid over his chest for a good minute, feeling the exhaustion embraced him and hoped that the warmth and additional weight on top of his chest would lull him to sleep. 

It didn’t work. Barry couldn’t sleep.

Thus, he left his bed, knowing that it’s impossible for him to fall asleep and catch up on his much-needed rest with the bed being too big and too cold like this. Might as well he seek for Savitar and sparred with the younger speedster until he passed out of exhaustion. He opened his arms, where Bolt instantly leapt into and curled up his chest, a comforting presence to the uneasiness that grew in his chest. 

He was wandering aimlessly in the guests’ residential area, silently judging his more eccentric acquaintances—his lips quirked in amusement at the bright purple door that belonged to Joker when he heard a low moan and the mocking cackle from two familiar voices.

Barry felt the muscle underneath his eyes twitched in annoyance.

He didn’t know why but it annoyed him to hell whenever Savitar fucked someone around his immediate presence.

The door opposite to the purple one was stupidly unlocked, thus he let himself in—this building was literally his, so he could do whatever the fuck he wanted—and he leant by the doorframe, taking in the view.

He felt his blood rushed to his head, his vision tainted red and his lips set to grim line.

Only the gentle whine from Bolt and the little affectionate licks on his fingers that stopped him from re-enacting Ripper’s own MO on the man himself.

But to say that he wasn’t aroused was a lie too. Between him and Savitar, the younger speedster was _always_ at the receiving end. Savitar had complained at first, as it was a bruise to his ego—the God of Speed, being bent to half and fucked raw—but it eventually grew on both of them. Savitar seemed to grow accustomed to the arrangements, never again complaining about why they never switch.

Or perhaps the younger speedster already knew that Barry would freak out if they even try to switch.

Barry never talked about his past, and Savitar never asked. 

But, they both knew that Savitar wasn’t stupid either.

There was an unspoken understanding there, and Barry wondered if Savitar even knew how grateful he was for the time remnant’s tolerance.

Though, it was alarmingly attractive and arousing, to see the dominant side of Savitar came out to play. Gone now the snarky whiny bitch that begged him for completion and been replaced with this sardonic playful hottie. Barry’s Earth-23 doppelganger was rendered completely breathless underneath Savitar’s mercy, writhing and begging to be touched, whimpering when the vibrating digits traced down his body. The scarred speedster seemed like he was starving, hungrily devouring Ripper’s lean sculpted torso, leaving angry bruises in his wake.

Barry didn’t know why he suddenly felt angry and disappointed at the same time.

Shaking his head at the strange mix of feelings, and dismissing it as a mere side-effect of his exhaustion, he schooled his face to his now trademark poker face, keeping a tight cuddle on the comforting presence Bolt offered him as he spoke;

“Having fun?”

Ripper’s expression was hilariously candid.

But Savitar was beaming, scarred cheek stretched into a huge grin—and that sight alone calmed the chaos within Barry’s chest. The scarred speedster didn’t stop his teasing; his hands were precise and purposeful as they trailed ever so slowly down the Ripper’s naked hips. It seemed so careful, so calculative—nothing reckless like one would normally associate with the scar that caked half of Savitar’s face.

Barry followed the movements of those hands, wondering how it would felt if he was the one in Ripper’s place, trapped in Savitar’s careful mercy. Bolt licked his fingers again, whining a high-pitch whine as if he noticed how unnatural Barry’s breathing had been and Barry had to remind himself to breathe normally as he set the pup down.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he murmured while internally reminding himself that he needed to breath normally—his lustful primal side was so sorely tempted to pull Savitar into a kiss and seduce the younger speedster to take him right there, but his saner side went into a complete panic mode, reminding him of the rough phantom touches from his worst nightmare. He inhaled a controlled breath, pretending that everything was perfectly normal as he sat right next to Ripper’s naked thighs. “It has been too long since the last time we sparred together.”

That was the reason he sought Savitar, right? He needed to exhaust himself through sparring.

Savitar tilted his head in that familiar fashion that indicated he was trying to see through Barry before one of his hand came up, those slender fingers gently thread through Barry’s hair. The gentle intimate touch invoked a shiver to run down Barry’s spine—a feeling so good that Barry could only submit when the younger tugged him closer, closing their lips together for a quick chaste peck. Barry wanted to whine at the lack of intensity, but Savitar’s lips on his own were distracting that he barely able to hear the scarred speedster’s soft whisper;

“Let us finish first?”

He didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply, in fact. Savitar’s lips were soft, unlike the rest of the man. And when his gaze fell to his Earth-23 doppelganger, he was seriously contemplating to take the serial killer’s place beneath Savitar. He didn’t have the chance to decide, though. His breathing stuttered, heart skipping a beat when Savitar’s hand suddenly trailed up his thigh, gently massaging his inner thigh…

….but nothing could compare to the pleasure he felt when Savitar kissed him.

It felt so good that his eyes slid shut, a contented sigh slipped past his lips.

“Or why don’t we have fun together?” It was increasingly difficult for Barry to focus on Savitar’s words when the younger speedster nipped and playfully tugged on his lower lips. The sultry smirk was a temptation from hell, and Barry had to restrain himself from whimpering in frustration at the lack of attention that was supposedly his. 

“Let us make him remember what a living human could do to pleasure him.”

Barry almost wished he had actually screamed to Savitar’s face.

And threw a decent-sized brick to the younger’s stupid head.

Ripper could go and fuck all the corpses he wanted, Barry didn’t want to care. Savitar’s attention was supposed to be solely on Barry, not on this necrophiliac deranged serial killer.

His gaze fell onto Ripper once more, his jaw set, his lips curled to a hardened grimace. Sure, he’ll humour Savitar this time. He wanted to have a threesome with Ripper, so be it. They were going to wreck this sociopathic bitch till the whole CCU community on Earth-23 would know that their beloved Professor Allen has been fucked raw, but….

Barry superspeed unfastened his own belt and tied it tight around Ripper’s wrists.

The serial killer ain’t touching his Savitar.

It seemed petty and childish, resolving to tie his doppelganger just so that the other man couldn’t touch his Savitar, but Barry was too tired to care about how ridiculous his behaviour was.

Though, his act somehow triggered something primal inside Savitar. The younger speedster reached out to him, slender fingers twisted around the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer into a hungry kiss. He gasped into the unexpected kiss, unintentionally giving Savitar the access for the younger to devour him.

And he was devoured indeed. Savitar’s mouth was ravenous, slick vibrating tongue made its way inside his mouth, taking full charge, raw and obscene yet ever so careful as he invaded Barry’s mouth. Savitar pressed closer, tilting his head as if he was a starving man seeking nourishment, exploring with his tongue and teeth, leaving Barry depraved of oxygen but lusting for more. He carded his fingers through Barry’s hair, massaging just at the right spot that invoked sweet, sweet moans from the older speedster that by the time they pulled away, Barry’s cheeks were flushed deep pink, lips slacked in needy gasps—something of a rare occurrence for Savitar.

“You must have been real tired to submit this easily…,” the scarred speedster commented, licking his thumb—still wet with the remains of their mixed saliva as if he couldn’t get enough of Barry’s taste.

Then, there was a whirlwind of movement and Barry found himself being laid on the bed with Savitar on top of him while the huge fluffy pillow Ripper diligently brought from Earth-23 was squished between his back and the headboard. The younger speedster gently massaged his temple, moving down to his neck—those slender fingers knew just the right spot to press to make Barry moaned in relief—before he settled with a gentle squeeze over Barry’s shoulders. Savitar nuzzled on the underside of his jaw once, kissing a fluttering trail up to his ear, his hot breath invoked a shiver down Barry’s spine.

“Think you can wait while I prepped him up?”

Barry restrained himself from scowling when Savitar tilted his head towards Ripper, who was now staring at them with wide eyes, the man’s length was hard and ready. Schooling his face to a cocky look, he raised an eyebrow, an unspoken rhetorical question.

Savitar laughed. “Yep, didn’t think so.”

Barry grinned.

Ripper would be sorely tortured, there was no question of it.

They moved, lightning crackled to their movements as Savitar stripped their Earth-23’s counterpart completely naked—the man’s shirt ended up tangled and hung over his bound hands by the time he was pushed back onto the bed. The time remnant then ditched his jacket and shirt, leaving him only in his pants while Barry remained fully clothed, only ditching his sweater but not his shirt as he was not exactly comfortable to strip in front of Ripper. Savitar planted yet another heated kiss on Barry’s lips—it has been so long since Savitar actually had the chance to devour his older counterpart. A wanting whimper from the third person on the bed forced them to break apart, still panting above all as they turned their heads to the side, where they both could see the way Ripper’s throat bobbed, the man was nervous yet obviously aroused.

“Come here,” Barry called, shifting to spread his legs, a clear order for his doppelganger to sit between his legs.

A low whimper slipped past the serial killer’s lips when Barry pulled him closer, his bare back pressed up to the speedster’s clothed chest, while Barry’s hands trailed lower down his chest, teasing the taut muscles that dipped to his front, down to the trails of dark hair, skirting just slightly above the sensitive length. Ripper was lean and perfectly toned, even for a powerless human—as all those running and sneaking around the police he had been doing since his serial killer career started had definitely paid off well.

But then again, he was still a powerless human.

“You know, I suddenly realised that we have an issue,” Barry murmured, nipping on the pierced ears, tasting the metallic taste of gold on his tongue when he tugged the chain of the cross earring with his mouth, invoking a whimper from his doppelganger. “A major inconvenience to all of us.”

Ripper squirmed, trying to buck his hips up, wanting to feel the Flash’s hot skin on his own, but he was forced to sit still as Savitar scooted between his quaking thighs, wrapping his arms around his waist. The scarred speedster resumed his previous task, lavishing attention all over his chest, nibbling on his nipples until he cried out in need, licking and lapping lewd wet trail over the contour of his abs and left him trembling like all his victims before he ended them. 

Shit, was this a karma?

That thought was oddly arousing.

It felt good to be vulnerable and victimized like this. Barry was kissing and sucking on his neck and shoulder, the speedster’s hot tongue found the hypersensitive spot behind Ripper’s pierced ear and he teased that spot without mercy once he realised that fact, making the serial killer mewled and whimpered helplessly in his embrace.

“Major inconvenience indeed,” Savitar chuckled, nipping on the taut flesh of the clenching abs.

For some godforsaken reasons, both speedsters seemed to avoid touching Ripper on the place he needed attention the most.

“Please,” he finally begged, bucking his hips up, wanting to be touched so bad.

Savitar and Barry perfectly mirrored each other, tipping their heads in mock confusion, staring at him with the similar devious shine in their eyes.

“No,” both speedsters said in unison.

Ripper honestly felt like he wanted to cry.

“We don’t have refractory period, _Dr.Allen_ ,” Savitar hissed, leaning a bit closer, the rough fabric of his jeans barely touched Ripper’s throbbing length. “We could cum and be ready for another go right the next second.”

“Or we could have dragged it out, making it last for hours, and hours.... _Hours_ of teasing and fucking….”

Ripper visibly shuddered in Barry’s arms.

“You, on the other hand….,” Barry murmured, finally, finally slipping his hand down to grip his doppelganger’s leaking dick, his touches were fluttering—a tease. “...such an inconvenience, isn’t it? To be a normal human?”

There was only a choked gasp to respond to his question.

Savitar planted a gentle peck on Ripper’s gaping lip. “Don’t worry. We’ll make you last as long as us.”

Ripper’s face twisted to a horrified gape.

Barry tilted the serial killer’s face to the side, going for a kiss as he noticed that Savitar had uncapped a bottle of lube. As much as it annoyed him that Savitar had his attention on this deranged necrophile rather than him, it was still too early for him to be cruel. So, he paid attention to his doppelganger, kissing the gaping lips gently. It was an awkward angle for a kiss, but he managed the purposeful distraction, as he knew how hurt and uncomfortable would it felt for first-timers. 

After all, despite his notorious track record as a serial killer that raped the corpse of his own victims, Ripper had never been the one at the receiving end. 

Barry pressed a little bit closer, deepening the kiss when he saw Savitar’s vibrating fingers slipped to breach the shaking body in their grasp. If the dangerous glint in Savitar’s eyes were any indicator, Ripper was going to need the distraction of Barry’s lips.

“Nnn—ugh,” the pained moan tore through the man’s throat straight into Barry’s mouth, his eyes squeezed shut in discomfort.

“Ssshhh,” Savitar hushed, scooting even closer, pressing one hand over the quaking thigh, stopping Ripper’s voluntary attempts to cross his legs. “Relax, Rip.”

Ripper nodded, though his bound hands came up to clutch at Barry’s wrist anyway, clinging to the hand that was gently cupping his face, as if he was seeking for support. Barry sighed, tipping his head at the scarred speedster, a signal for the younger to stop. Savitar did, letting only half of his index finger remained inside the whimpering serial killer. Barry brushed Ripper’s hair out of his face, planting gentle kiss over the man’s temple until those eyes fluttered open, awe and wonder swam in the glazy eyes as he stared at Barry.

“Green Arrow.”

Savitar blinked and stared at Barry, confusion was evidence on his face. “Barry, what the fuck—?”

“Say Green Arrow if you want us to completely stop. Reverse Flash if you want a break.”

Savitar stared at him, looking like he was torn in between laughing out loud and smacking Barry’s head.

Ripper blinked owlishly, seeming to finally regain his mental faculties. “Aren’t green supposed to be a signal for ‘go’?” he asked, voice sluggish, though his grip on Barry’s wrist tightened, needing the anchor.

Barry snorted. “I’d rather you screamed ‘the Flash’ when you want me to go all the way.”

“Fuck, Barry,” Savitar cursed. “Only you will put your own alias as a safe word.”

“Both of you call me ‘Barry’ anyway. So, there is no confusion between the two.”

Ripper nodded, wincing a bit when he accidently shifted and Savitar’s vibrating finger drove deeper up his ass. He panted at the strange yet not unwelcomed feeling of being stretched and penetrated, shivering slightly as he seemed to struggle to speak;

“Why would I need a safe word?”

Barry smirked. “We told you that we are going to make you last as long as us, right?”

Ripper trembled in Barry’s arms. Whether that was because of the way Savitar was slowly working his fingers up the untouched ass, or because he knew that Barry was going to torture him, it was unknown.

Barry shifted, pulling Savitar’s finger out in the process as he turned the serial killer around to face him. The CCU professor was obedient, following Barry’s silent directions as he stood on his knees, his bound hands clutched desperately on the front of Barry’s shirt. Barry rested his back more comfortably against the headboard, before he pulled Ripper a bit closer, allowing the man to settle on his own thighs, all the while making sure that the long lean legs were spread wide enough for Savitar to work in opening him up. Barry could feel the frantic beats of the serial killer’s heart, thumping loudly, announcing his nervous anticipation for Barry’s next move.

Barry leant close for a gentle peck, brushing his lips slowly over Ripper’s own, his words were barely audible;

“You’re going to cum only when we told you to, is that okay?”

Ripper’s breath hitched upon hearing those words, while Savitar stopped whatever he was doing, peeking over Ripper’s shoulders with an eyebrow arched, completely amused. The serial killer pursed his lips tight, contemplating for a moment, before he shakily nodded.

That was the permission for Barry to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you are disappointed at the sudden cut? This chapter was almost as long as all previous chapters combined, so I cut it to two parts. I was so busy this week, that I didn't keep track on my writing. Hahahaha
> 
> Hope you enjoy the story, everyone~!


	11. Special : Extended Cut 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure threesome smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed, with potentially kinky smut.
> 
> Read at your own risk

That was the permission for Barry to move.

He moved ever so slowly, taking his time as he let his fingers trailed gentle strokes up the throbbing shaft of his panting doppelganger. Up and down his strokes went, but he never touched beyond the shaft, purposely abandoning the much more sensitive head that flushed red for attention. Savitar seemed to catch up on his thoughts, his own fingers moved slowly, once, twice, thrice—he pushed those digits in up to his knuckles, before slowly sliding out and thrusting back in, this time, only pushing one finger in.

Never once Savitar attempted to seek for Ripper’s prostate.

Never once Barry attempted to attend to the flushed red head of the serial killer’s length.

They both were slowly stimulating their poor human doppelganger, teasing and toying with him, rendering him completely breathless. Ripper whined and writhed—he wasn’t used to warmth. Yes, freshly murdered body still have body warmth, but he always kept them nice and cold before he made love with them. It was easier and less messy to finish his masterpieces once he was done with them if they were cold.

But this?

This warmth that felt like a far-fetched memory of his sub-conscious? It triggered something within the serial killer. He hasn’t felt intimate warm touches for almost two years, with the last time being when Iris kissed him on the morning of the faithful night when she confronted him.

The speedsters’ warmth affected him far worse than he ever expected.

He almost wished that they would hug him. It felt so long since the last time he received intimate embraces.

But that was asking for too much, was it?

He tried to push down onto Savitar’s finger and bucked his hips up to Barry’s palm but neither speedsters gave in to his silent demands. He clutched tighter onto Barry’s shirt, clinging for dear life when he felt his pleasure slowly building up, his abs muscles clenching, just needing that little push for him to embrace his completion. 

It was so close, he was so fucking _close_ ….

Then, they suddenly stopped. Savitar completely pulled his fingers out of Ripper’s ass, resolving to wrap his arms around the naked waist and rested his chin over the serial killer’s shoulder. Barry stopped stroking too, his hands were painfully still, those long slender fingers curved on his thighs, so temptingly near his heavy balls.

Ripper let out a small whimper.

It felt so good. Living bodies were so warm—speedsters were even warmer. 

They felt even better.

“Barry, I want a kiss,” Savitar murmured and closed his eyes, lips parted as if he was waiting for Barry to claim him.

Barry silently obliged, moving one hand to cup Savitar’s scarred cheek as he leant close for a kiss. It was a slow gentle kiss, and all that Ripper could do was to cling tighter to Barry’s shirt, whimpering in distress when the close proximity of the speedsters caused his dripping cock to brush against the stiff fabric of Barry’s cotton ironed shirt. He could’ve cum, if only he thrust forward to rub his cock against the fabric, but Savitar held him in place, restraining his movements completely.

A low whine tore from his throat.

The speedsters finally broke apart, Savitar was still gasping while Barry’s lips curled to a lazy smirk. 

“I didn’t expect for you to react like this,” Barry chuckled.

“Who would’ve thought you would be so sensitive and needy?” Savitar hummed, his teeth sunk into the crook of Ripper’s neck, leaving a rather nasty mark right there for display. “All those corpses that you fucked…one would have thought that you’re so used to not be touched….”

Ripper could only respond with a low wanting groan.

He was okay before, but now he knew that he had underestimated on how the speedsters’ extreme warmth and fluttering heartbeats could affect him—he wasn’t expecting those two little things he has long forgotten could burn his lust and needs more than ever.

He missed his Iris. Her warmth. Her heartbeats. Her hot breaths. Her soft kisses. Her hugs. Her touches.

Why must she turned her back on him?

“And yet, you’re suddenly so desperate…,” Barry’s voice was almost like a purr, deep and rumbling from his chest and throat. “…wanting to be touched so bad..,”

Ripper whined, struggling to at least press his dick up Barry’s shirt, wanting that tiniest bit of friction to satisfy his denied pleasure.

The older speedster shifted, avoiding his desperate thrust under the pretence of kissing him.

Barry kissed the professor angrily, like he was on a rageful warpath, like he was channelling his annoyance and anger towards the way everyone seemed to get along so well with his Savitar while he was completely ignored at the side-lines. He laid siege with his tongue and teeth, with the force that was enough to bruise and hurt—an intentional move, he was indeed intending to hurt. He bit and nipped on the soft lips of his doppelganger, tasting the slightest hint of salty blood when he got too rough, though the serial killer seemed to not mind, pressing back to his lips, his palms flat against the front of Barry’s shirt, pushing against the fabric as if he was craving for the feel of Barry’s heartbeats so much. Barry’s lips then left the bruised ones so that he could ravish his doppelganger’s throat, leaving a necklace of purplish bruises all over the span of smooth skin.

Savitar resumed Barry’s abandoned task, stroking Ripper’s dick with such slow long strokes using one hand, his other hand gently fondled on the heavy balls of the vulnerable man. He gave a deliberate tug, pulling them away from the shaking body, and when Ripper showed no signs of stopping him, he pulled the sacks slightly farther, his other hand continuously stroking the flushed shaft.

Ripper let out a guttural moan, eyes squeezed shut at the strange frustrating feeling of being in the middle between wanting to cum but not being able to, the cruel denial was oddly intoxicating. Barry took over the task of loosening him up, scissoring him with four fingers at the same time, this time Ripper indeed could feel the tiniest bit of vibration penetrating his tight body—the vibration felt far too strong to his shaking sensitive body. He shifted his hips a bit, attempting to at least brush the head of his dick against Savitar’s hot slick palm, but the movement caused Barry’s long fingers to brush against something within him.

It was just a tiny vibration against that spot, but it felt so _good_.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, eyes rolled back at the unexpected wave of pleasure as he tried to push back into those fingers.

He wanted more. He _needed_ more.

Though, in a blink of an eye, the speedsters stopped, their hands back on his waist, his thighs—caressing and patting him, never skirting the line of chaste soothing touches. Their lips—the twin hot lips, warm, oh so warm it drove Ripper crazy with wants—were on his chest, his shoulders, his abs, leaving fluttering kisses that would have been so sweet and gentle if Ripper wasn’t tortured like this.

Making love with corpses—despite their cold unresponsive body—had never been sweetly frustrating like this.

The speedsters lavished him with kisses and caresses until his breathing calmed down, and the pull of arousal has slightly lessened, though he has started to drip, his pre-cum leaked and wetted the front of Barry’s shirt.

“Barry,” he gasped, but said nothing else, his eyes glazed with tears, his brain no longer able to form coherent thoughts. He just wanted to feel their warmth, wanting them to get even closer to him. “Savitar.”

It was slow. It was torturous. Both speedsters were touching him in ways he didn’t know should possible, slightest vibration that invoked goosebumps all over his body, sending waves after waves of controlled pleasure. Every inch of his body was touched and ravished—the speedsters explored and ravaged everywhere they could reach except for the two sweet spots that needed their attention the most. They deliberately avoided touching his most sensitive spots, only resolving for teases that enough to stimulate him, but were barely enough for him to cum.

“Please,” he gasped, not knowing if he was even making any sense, not knowing wether he was asking for the fuck or for the warmth and the feel of their heartbeats, but he begged anyway. “ _Please_ ….” 

The corners of Barry’s lips quirked to an amused smile and he planted a chaste kiss on Ripper’s gasping lips while Savitar took the liberty of the serial killer’s tilted face to shower the sensitive spot behind his pierced ear with little licks and gentle nipping. Ripper’s bound hands clung onto Barry’s shirt, a shaky mewl tore from his throat when Barry’s thumb traced a long line up his flushed red shaft, pressing along the length, milking him till he leaked and dripped helplessly. The hot palm felt unbearably good against his skin, the feel of his hypersensitive leaking head brushing against the curve of Barry’s warm palm was intoxicating, so fucking good that when Barry brought said palm up, flaunting the dripping web of cum on his fingers right in front of Ripper’s face, the Earth-23’s menace could only stare blankly, his mental faculties completely clouded with lust and needs.

Savitar leant over his shoulder to lick a long-wet stripe along Barry’s slick palm, a little moan vibrated from the scarred speedster’s throat, as if he was enjoying the taste. “Your cum tastes like frustration,” he commented, almost sounding casual if not because of the slight labour of his breathing.

Ripper rested his forehead on Barry’s shoulder, whimpering in need.

Perhaps it was a moment of pity or compassion, but Barry grasped Ripper’s bound hands and slid himself inside the shaky loop that were Ripper’s arms, giving the man a leverage and advantage to rest his arms on Barry’s shoulders. It seemed to brought relief to the CCU professor, as he exhaled a heavy breath, his body slouched slightly, exhausted and shaking.

“Green Arrow?” Barry murmured, his lips pressed to the damp temple.

Ripper shook his head, recognizing the cue and he instantly mumbled out, not wanting to stop. “The Flash.”

Savitar chortled a laugh. “God damn it, Barry. I would never be able to look at Ollie straight in the eyes after this.”

Barry was silent for a moment, his lips were soft and warm against Ripper’s forehead.

“Haven’t you heard? He died.”

“Wait-what? Did Kara turn him to a splat?”

“Nope. She died too.”

Ripper frowned, his brain was sluggish, trying to process the conversation of his partners but he managed to comprehend a bit here and there. 

Did these two seriously started to discuss multiverse gossip in the middle of sex?

“They gotten themselves in a nasty business with the _heroes_.” Barry snorted. “Not that it matters. I’m closing our deal with their Earth anyway.”

Savitar was silent for a moment, his lips pursed as he tipped his head, seemingly thoughtful. His jaw then hardened, a flash of bitterness streaked across his face.

Barry arched his brows. “Should we drop wedding gifts for the two happy couples?”

“And alert them of our existence?” Savitar shot back, voice a bit too harsh. “Barry, I thought you’re the brain between the two of us.”

“Just in case,” Barry merely shrugged, wrapping his arms loosely around Ripper’s waist. “We didn’t crash their wedding, so a gift of promised threats might get them on edge.”

There was a beat of ominous silence.

“And you dare say I always pick up unnecessary fights…,” Savitar snorted, though his voice did soften a bit. “Let them be, Barry. They didn’t have to know that I survived.”

“As you wish.”

Ripper was confused as fuck. What the hell were they talking about??

Though, he didn’t have the chance to ask because the speedsters dropped the topic when Barry suddenly leant over his left shoulder, removing one hand from his waist to cup Savitar’s face. They kissed, gently, passionately, and Ripper could feel the heartbeats beneath his palms fluttered. It didn’t flutter in the adrenaline-rush, lustful kind of way, but it was something different—Barry’s heart was beating fast, but in a calm peaceful manner, and if Ripper could compare with his minimal experience kissing living human, this rhythm felt just like his heart was when he was with his Iris, when he devoted his heart to her.

When he was at peace and at his happiest.

When he thought that she loved him.

Ripper’s throat clenched at that thought, swallowing the bile that rose to his throat as he suddenly felt a sharp pang in his chest.

It didn't help his cause when he also felt like he was intruding a really private moment between the two.

When they parted, there was a rare genuine smile on Savitar—just a little quirk at the corners of his lips, though his mismatched eyes crinkled in fondness. They shared a few languid kisses, lips moving without urgency, slow and passionate—there was no lust in their kiss, just _softness_.

Softness that didn’t fit either one of the speedster.

They broke apart with a soft gasp, and by that time, Ripper had calmed down enough to regain most of his mental faculties. He exhaled softly when Savitar reached around to kiss him, the softness from the earlier kiss still lingered in the scarred speedster’s kiss, making Ripper mewled at the sudden change. Savitar patted his hips, the speedster’s hard bulge slid between his slickened cheeks and he let out a pathetic squeak when Barry spread his ass cheeks apart, giving his prepped hole a direct contact with Savitar’s jeans.

Savitar hissed while Ripper let out a soft mewl.

Barry smirked.

In a flash, Barry had laid Ripper onto the bed, holding the serial killer’s bound hands up against the headboard using one hand while the other was tying the bound hands to the headboard using Savitar’s belt. He phased one end of the belt through the wood of the headboard, making a secure loop to bound Ripper’s hands to the bed. Once the knot was secure, he released the shaky hands, watching in contemplative silence when Ripper twisted his wrists feebly, testing the binds. He waited, trying to look for any signs of distress but only saw nervous anticipation in his doppelganger.

Ripper exhaled shakily, looking up to Barry with a nervous smile.

“The Flash,” he said with a nod.

“ _Good_ ,” Barry leant to kiss Ripper’s forehead.

Savitar snorted a silent laugh. “Those safe words are NOT staying.”

“Aw, come on.”

“Barry, NO.”

Despite the disagreement, they broke to an identical wide grin.

“Baby,” Barry murmured softly, twisting his torso to kiss Savitar, his thighs still caging Ripper’s shaky body. 

He carded his fingers in Savitar’s hair, pressing his lips desperately, wanting a deeper connection. Savitar’s lips parted in a soft whine, and Barry took the access given to slide his tongue inside. He tangled their tongues together, moving their lips softly together while one of his hands slid lower to caress the exposed skin of Savitar’s hips. He trailed playful touches along the waist of the dark jeans, before popping off the button. Sliding his hand inside, vibrating gently against the hard length, he swallowed the wanting moan that the younger slipped out. Barry moved his fingers up and down the throbbing length, pushing his thumb up along the shaft, spreading his palm all over the slick head, thus invoking a whimper from his younger counterpart.

Savitar let out a low groan that disappeared into Barry’s kiss.

He finally pulled away, nipping and tugging on Savitar’s lower lips, his movement a bit too slow and almost seemed reluctant. Trailing his lips up the stretched twisted skin of the scar, he kissed Savitar’s closed eyelids, trailing his gentle kiss up to the bullet mark that twisted among the scar on the younger’s forehead, lingering there for a few long seconds before his lips trailed back down to the scarred cheek and he ended his journey with a gentle suck on the burnt shell of Savitar’s ear. 

“I want you to fuck him,” he murmured, feeling Savitar’s hot breath hitting his cheek. “Fuck him hard and raw. I want to watch both of you.”

He patted the scarred cheek again and tilted his head in Ripper’s direction.

Savitar cupped both of his cheeks and leant for a quick peck. 

“Don’t keep me waiting, old man,” the scarred speedster hissed, pressing their foreheads together for that one brief second before he flashed to situate himself between Ripper’s legs.

Ripper’s breath hitched when Savitar hiked his shaking thighs around the speedster’s waist. 

The scarred speedster then smashed his lips against Ripper’s, lips moving passionately yet the subtle order to submit was clear as he deepened the kiss, making his way in without even bothering to ask. Ripper squeezed his eyes shut when Savitar’s tongue slid inside his mouth to caress and explore him, whimpering when the speedster carefully tugged the chain on his earring, his warm thumb brushing behind Ripper’s pierced ear before Savitar pulled away, a glistening fine string of saliva still connected between their lips. He caressed the sweat-damp cheek, brushing his finger over the strong jaw, honestly enjoying the desolate sigh that escaped the serial killer.

“So fucking _sensitive_ ….”

Ripper blinked stupidly, brain usage capacity being reduced to almost nothing as he opened his mouth obediently when Savitar’s fingers traced over his lips.

“Ah,” Savitar breathed out, watching the way the bound serial killer was sucking on his fingers, his gaze then fell downwards where the desperate hips bucked for the tiniest bit of friction. He exchanged an amused look with Barry, his smile was coy. “So needy…”

The sudden wanting gasp from Ripper had Savitar raise an eyebrow. He pulled his fingers out of the wet mouth and leant close, hot breath hitting Ripper’s bruised neck as his lips made a lewd pattern all over the expanse of exposed skin. 

“Oh, god..,” Ripper whimpered, bucking his hips slightly, a noise of frustration slipped past his throat when his flushed dick only meet the empty air. “Please. Please….GOD!”

“I’m right here, Ripper…,” Savitar hushed, watching the way Ripper squirmed in his restraints, his vibrating hand travelled up the taut abs to one of the man’s nipples. “Tell me,” he hissed, angling his bulge so that it would rub against the exposed flushed dick. “How do you want me to devour you?”

Ripper whined, squirming desperately, needing the friction, needing it so much, only to shudder when Savitar retreated, keeping a distance between their hips. “Oh, no, no, no, no. Oh. Please...”

Savitar purred, the sound rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m going to have so much fun with you, _Dr.Allen_ …. So much fun...”

Ripper whined, shuddering when he felt the speedster’s hard slick length rubbed between his cheeks, nudging up against his loosened hole before sliding oh so torturously slow against his heavy reddened balls. Savitar smirked, one hand forming a tight ring around the base of Ripper’s dick as he kept grinding their naked hard erections together, loving the small needy whimpers that tore from the serial killer’s throat. He used his other hand and teeth to tear the condom packet open, extracting the rubber while spitting the packet away.

Ripper wheezed, though his glazed eyes seemed to stare at the condom in confusion.

“Hey, you fucked corpses, like, every weekend, Rip,” Savitar snorted, his lips curled to an annoyed grimace. “And my reckless sex life recently might have an effect on you,” he added, grumbling under his breath about something that sounded like complaints to whores who randomly resigning out of the blue on him. “Haven’t had my monthly check-up yet, so better be safe than sorry. You have no killer immune system, _prof_.”

Barry noticeably stiffened, seeming to wince a bit upon hearing Savitar’s little grumbles of complaints. 

And Ripper noticed that.

He had the slightest hunch on who was behind the sudden resignation of those girls that Savitar selected as his exclusive fucktoy. He heard the words around the lair that after sweet sweet obedient Mellie—hey, he didn’t fuck her since she wasn’t that appealing to his taste (being alive and all), but he had watched what the girl could do to serve Savitar—anyway, when she resigned out of the blue, all girls that Savitar bedded suddenly went out of town, even to the point that sometimes three girls would skip town in one day.

Talk about being overly possessive.

Though, Ripper’s pondering on the idea was stopped as his mental faculties shut down, lust started to cloud his mind again when Savitar entered him, the rubber sheathing his length was slicked with lube that felt oddly cold and freezing, like it was dipped in ice before usage. He hissed at the burning stretch, the pain burned him, yet the coldness was soothingly numbing, though he felt very uncomfortable at being forced open to accept such intrusion, his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. Savitar was mercifully slow, though for each delay in his thrust, his grip on the base of Ripper’s cock tightened, as if wanting to cut off the serial killer’s source of pleasure as much as possible. 

The speedster threw his head back, huffing heavily, a low satisfied groan tore out of his throat once he was completely buried to the hilt inside Ripper.

“Gah, so tight,” he gasped, lips curled in strained grimace at the feeling of his cock being enveloped by the velvety heat of the Earth-23’s Barry Allen. “I have forgotten how different and good a man’s body felt like…”

Barry visibly winced.

Tears pricked at the back of Ripper’s eyes, but he bit his lip to suppress the pain, refusing to show any more weakness. He’d never felt something like this before—none of the dead bodies he fucked gave him this kind of electrifying pleasure, or the sensation of being violated and rendered helpless—it was like the table was turned and karma wanted to sweetly punish him. It was a tad bit painful, with Savitar staving his pleasure, keeping a tight control on how much he could feel his pleasure but then, Savitar brought their lips together, kissing him languidly, his warmth was overwhelming, the fluttering heartbeats felt so loud as their chests touched....

And Ripper was instantly comforted.

There was the ominous crackle of lightnings before Barry was suddenly lying next to him, one arm slid underneath his body to curl around his waist while the older speedster took reign over the control over his dick, allowing Savitar the freedom to hold his hips. Savitar lifted his hips slightly higher, slowly sliding out while Barry continued toying with his dick, giving him fluttering touches up his straining shaft, only to tease him with little flicks of the tip of his vibrating fingers against his slit, causing him to drip uncontrollably—so close yet so far. The older speedster was cruel, because the moment he noticed that Ripper’s abs started to clench, body shaking as he neared his completion, Barry would instantly stop the teasing, using his fingers to form tight ring at the base of his dick that successfully staved off his orgasm. Ripper gasped, needy and shameless when Savitar rammed back inside, the hard length recklessly breached through his resisting body, leaving a trail of electrifying pleasure and slight hint of pain due to the sharp friction of constricting walls against vibrating flesh.

When was the last time he have someone to touch him while having sex?

Stupid. It was two years ago.

Barry wasn’t exactly helping when he started sucking and nibbling all over Ripper’s torso, leaving bruises and hickeys everywhere, as if the other man was determined to let the world know that Ripper was fucked raw and mercilessly. The man kept him anchored and restrained using one arm, his other hand continued to tease and deny—an endless cycle of building up and disappointment for the helpless bound doppelganger—while his mouth was busy mapping out each sensitive spot on Ripper’s body. 

The lack of grinding or any moves to pleasure the Flash despite the obvious hard bulge on those skinny jeans, made Ripper wondered on how long Barry could last controlling his partners without even be tempted to relieve himself.

Though, thinking was an impossible task for Ripper when Savitar’s mercy period ended and the scarred speedster suddenly picked up a pace, the ill-coloured red and yellow lightning crackled as he vibrated and rammed back inside Ripper. The movement invoked a strange friction inside his body, and a wave of strange power seemed to wash over from Savitar into him, causing him to spasm, eyes rolled to the back of his head, goosebumps erupted all over his body, his hips bucked up to Barry’s palm.

Ripper lost all of his ability to think after that.

“So fucking good,” Savitar admitted, slowing down a bit, no longer a blur though there was the strange tinge of his voice as if he was still vibrating his vocal chord. “I’ve forgotten about _this_. Tight and firm, so unlike a woman’s body,” he murmured, hips still moving, pounding in and out without mercy, fucking the CCU necrophiliac professor raw. He twisted his fingers in Ripper’s damp hair, tugging and pulling ruthlessly as the doppelganger gasped and mewled. “I never imagined you would feel this good,” his breathing grew laboured, voice a pitch higher.

Ripper whimpered, his legs grew weak and shaky, almost sliding off Savitar’s waist if not because of the scarred speedster’s tight grip on his muscular thighs. A loud embarrassing moan slipped out from his mouth when he felt slick wet cavern engulfed his throbbing dick, the vibration against his sensitive flesh made his toes curled, and for some godforsaken reason, the tight grip on the base of his dick made it felt even sinfully better, keeping him on edge, so close to cumming but not knowing when, or if he could ever achieve that completion with his pleasure being completely at the speedsters’ mercy. 

He wanted to pull Savitar down for a kiss, and tangled his fingers in Barry’s hair, wanting the older speedster to take him deeper, instead of giving him these tiny licks and occasional slow slurp into that tight vibrating mouth.

But his bound hand made everything impossible, rendering him completely helpless at the mercy of both speedsters. He could only buck his hips up, whimpering when his leaking tip brushed against Barry’s devious lips, or grounding down to take more of Savitar in, only to whine in frustration when the scarred speedster kept his hips still and slowed his thrust.

He let out a strangled mewl when Savitar brushed up against that sweet spot inside him while in the same time Barry gave the leaking head of his dick a tight vibrating suck, the sensation was driving him crazy. The pleasure made his thighs quaked, his hips bucked up and his toes curled—he was so close to cumming, and was about to when they again staved his orgasm, keeping him frustrated and denied.

Tears fell from his eyes, no longer able to handle the torture. He tugged on his bounds, his wrists were hurt—probably already blistering—his lips curled in a pursed tortured line while his eyes screwed shut in sweet agony. His bruised chest heaved, heavy and slow as his lips slacked open, eyes already glazed with tears. He could no longer feels his legs; his ass was completely sore and used that he was positive that he would be limping for days—Savitar was never known to be gentle with his fucktoys after all.

“Barry,” Savitar huffed, sounding just slightly out of breath. “Come on,” he almost sounded like he was whining, eyes hooded with lust and pleasure when he stared at Barry’s eyes. “I’m so fucking close.”

Barry stared, watching the single droplet of sweat trickled down the side of Savitar’s face.

Savitar flushed slightly, teeth gritted as his lips curled in embarrassed annoyance. He swallowed, completely avoiding eye contact as he mumbled;

“Need you inside, Barry.”

There was a crackle of lightnings and the next thing Ripper knew was that he has already been flipped to be standing on his shaky weakened knees, his head was held against the wall—was it Barry’s hand or Savitar’s he didn’t know—his bound hands sandwiched between his sweaty chest and the headboard. Savitar’s heart was thumping against his back—a presence he oddly took comfort in—the scarred speedster was panting harshly to his ear, the movement of his hips were languid and slow. Then, his hips suddenly faltered, a low moan slipped past his lips straight to Ripper’s ear.

That sound was heavenly arousing.

“Barry,” Savitar was straight up whimpering, his hands curled to painful claws on Ripper’s hips, leaving deep red marks there. “You fucking—”

“Surely you don’t want me to go in dry, don’t you?”

“I’m not made of a fucking glass, Barry.” 

“As you wish…”

Savitar whimpered once he felt the tip of Barry’s dick nudged gently against his hole. He bit on his lips when Barry smothered kisses all over his back, the older speedster was squeezing and spreading his ass cheeks apart, exposing the puckered hole to the cold air.

“Keep moving, babe,” Barry whispered, nibbling on the shell of Savitar’s ears. “This gonna hurt and you’re going to need the distraction.”

Ripper’s legs buckled and he almost collapsed when Savitar rammed back into him, the speedster was picking up the pace, rough and powerful that Ripper could only scream and pant to the walls, his bound hands clawed on the soft surface of the headboard. His back arched, curved painfully as he struggled to stay upright but it was too difficult when the scarred speedster almost immediately started a rhythm. The lust sparked between them almost instantly and in seconds, Savitar had Ripper embracing the burning pain and pleasure. 

His fingers curled over Ripper’s hips, pressing strong enough to leave bruises, his other hand gently strokes the damp brown hair, lips planting kisses all over the sweaty skin as his hips were nothing but furiously and brutally pounded into the doppelganger’s weakened body. Ripper whined and whimpered in the mix of pleasure and pain; the pain was oddly arousing to him, each jolt of pain sent desire and pleasure throughout his body.

“Oh, god..,” the serial killer breathed out, weak and completely used.

“Right here, baby,” Savitar grunted, responding to the name with smugness in his voice, despite the little strain of his words. “Oh, fuck you—Barr—”

Savitar’s next words were drowned with his own moan, the movement of his hips flattered, slowing down as Barry entered him. 

“Tight, you sinful tight little slut,” Barry muttered through gritted teeth and he snapped his hips forward, sending Ripper flat against the wall as Savitar was droved forward due to the force—the scarred speedster bit on Ripper’s shoulder to muffle his voice while the serial killer’s loud scream of pleasure was muffled by the walls. 

“Barry…Savitar...,” Ripper shifted slightly so that he could rest his cheek on the wall, his lips falling apart and kept slipping strangled noises from his throat, bound hands clenching and unclenching desperately against the wall as his eyes were half-lidded and heavy with needs. “Please...I need to-to,” he moaned, losing his ability to form the rest of his sentence.

“Well, aren’t you such a pathetic sight?”

And in a blink of eye, Ripper was on his back again, blistered wrists tied high above his head as he stared up to Savitar who was looming over him. The scarred speedster had his mismatched eyes painfully squeezed shut too, his fingers clenched the sheets at each sides of Ripper’s head, and when those eyes opened, all that Ripper could saw was lust and vulnerability. 

Ripper watched, entranced when Barry gently tilted Savitar’s head to the side, leaning in for a kiss. Savitar parted his lips with a soft pleased sigh, eyes closed when he pressed onto Barry’s lips. Savitar’s arms were shaking when Barry deepened the kiss and Ripper didn’t need the view to know that the older speedster was already fully inside his younger counterpart. Barry’s hand curved around Savitar’s waist, keeping him up as they parted with a little gasp. Savitar let out a little whimper, lightning crackles as Barry moved gently, driving Savitar’s own hips to thrust back into Ripper.

Ripper moaned, his dick straining and dripped all over his abs. He was edging so close but Barry was quick to stop the incoming orgasm.

“No, not yet,” the speedster shook his head, planting a kiss over Savitar’s shoulder.

Ripper whined.

Barry’s grin was sardonic when he whispered to Savitar’s ear, the malice dripped from each syllable.

“Wreck him, baby.”

That was an order and an execution—order that Savitar happily obliged and execution that sent fearful anticipation down Ripper’s body.

Savitar started to pick up the pace again, each thrust getting even more intense and desperate. For a man who graduated with double PhD at such young age, it took Ripper far too long to understand why, but when he noticed that Barry wasn’t exactly moving—just being there, showering kisses down Savitar’s back, hence forcing the younger speedster to do the hard job—the serial killer finally understood the reasonings. 

“Barry, you ass,” Savitar complained, bending over to suck on Ripper’s throat, trying so hard to maintain a proper rhythm as he pounded into the serial killer. 

It was super difficult with Barry barely moving behind him—sadistic ass he was, the older man was enjoying watching Savitar being rendered desperate like this.

Every time Savitar pulled out of the shaking body beneath him, he was taking Barry’s length inside his own. It was a form of sweet torture—he enjoyed the tight velvety heat of Ripper’s body, but he also loving every inch of Barry that stretched his body open. Both of the sensations felt so good, that by the time he sought Ripper’s bruised lips for a kiss, his rhythm has gone insane—plunging himself deep into the warm tight body beneath him and brutally snapped his hips back to take Barry fully inside him; it was an endless cycle of pleasure.

Ripper’s knees buckled together at the sudden high intensity of Savitar’s thrusts; his toes curled and uncurled reflexively every time the hot vibrating dick hit his prostate, whore-like wanton mewls escaped him. Barry continuously toyed with his dick—tease, tease, deny, and back to teasing again—till Ripper cried and yelped in mix of pleasure and pain, lust and disappointment, caught in the state of intense ecstasy. The serial killer ended up resolving to clutch and cling onto the leather that was restraining his hands to the headboard, his eyes squeezed shut when he felt the tears pricked again. Barry flicked his fingers over the tip of his leaking dick, sending sparks of electricity while he was at it and made Ripper’s bright green eyes to glaze over as Savitar mercilessly rammed onto his prostate over and over again.

When Barry said that speedsters could drag sex for hours, he really meant it.

It was too bad that Ripper was just a normal human and has his own limits.

His hands that were clinging onto the belt slackened, turning limp and weak like cooked noodles while his legs were suddenly heavy in Savitar’s tight grip. He was at the verge of passing out, too much pleasure mixed with pain and denial has taken a toll on his overstimulated body, his eyes rolled back, glazed and unseeing just like the corpses he had fucked, his mouth slacked open in short wheezy gasps.

Savitar slowed down, a frown twisted on his face. “Barry, he is passing out…”

Barry peeked over Savitar’s shoulder, the corner of his mouth quirked to a satisfied smile upon seeing the sight of Ripper's limp body and glazed unseeing eyes. He nipped on Savitar’s sweaty shoulder, trailing kisses up to the twisted burnt skin of Savitar’s neck, finally removing his hand from Ripper’s dick to wrap around his partner’s waist. He bucked his hips forward, increasing the raw power that vibrated out of his body, the thrum of power sought its own twin within Savitar’s own body, deepening their connection.

“We can’t let him pass out just like that,” he murmured, started to move himself, thrusting languidly into Savitar.

Savitar was shaking, but he hardened his jaw and nodded his head. He traced his thumb along the tear-damped skin under Ripper’s glazed eyes before he leant down for a gentle kiss. The serial killer gasped against his lips, whimpering his name softly and Savitar took that as a signal that the other man was conscious enough for the finale. He picked up his pace, Barry’s matching him from behind as he fucked the CCU professor until the man sank deep into the mattress, Ripper’s back arched dangerously at the overwhelming force he was receiving.

“Savitar,” Ripper mewled, barely conscious himself through the mix of pain and pleasure but he rocked his hips back eagerly to meet Savitar’s thrust with the remaining of his depleted energy. 

He wasn’t much of a vocal lover, being so used to fuck in silence but the soft needy mewls that slipped his mouth had Barry to suddenly pushed Savitar down so that he could kiss Ripper. It was a sloppy kiss, with Ripper too weak to do anything more than merely gasping into the kiss but then Barry switched turns with Savitar, the scarred speedster kissed him with much urgency, greedily swallowing his needy mewls. He gasped, wishing that he could hold something—Savitar’s shoulder, or Barry’s hands, craving the soft warmth of their intimate touches—but being bound he was, he could do nothing when he felt warmth trickled out of him, slicking his thighs as Savitar rammed into him again and again. The scarred speedster hooked one of his legs over his shoulder, adjusting the angle of his thrusts repeatedly as if he was trying to seek for the perfect balance that would have him hitting Ripper’s prostate while in the same time giving Barry the angle to do the same to him. Ripper shivered when he felt Barry’s hot vibrating tongue licked a long-wet line over his calf, sucking and nibbling on his leg.

“Ripper,” Barry called out, voice husky and demanded submission.

Ripper looked up to meet those sharp green eyes, pleading with his eyes since he didn’t have the energy to stop the moans that were spilling from his mouth. He could feel that Savitar too was nearing the edge, but knowing what they had done to him since they started this, he didn’t know that if he would ever be allowed to cum. Barry’s hand reached around Savitar’s torso to cup his cheek, calloused thumb stroked gently beneath his eyes.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, crying out in desperation when Savitar thrust deep inside him and shuddered against him—the scarred speedster was blurring, a sensation so good that invoked goosebumps all over his body, the statics he discharged sending jolts of strange pleasure—

“It’s okay. _Cum_.”

Barry’s hands were suddenly on his length, giving him everything that he was denied—and that was all that he needed for his own completion. He moaned, soft and whiny as his eyes rolled back to the back of his head, toes curled in complete pleasure, hips bucking, back arched dangerously off the mattress as his vision turned hazy and white, splattering his release all over Barry’s hands and Savitar’s chest. He was understandably drained once the last spurt of cum left him, the pleasure cocooned him, keeping his mind in the state of hazy warm afterglow. He had never cummed that much in his whole life, never had that kind of electrifying orgasm before. 

It felt so _good_.

Savitar crashed onto him, whimpering softly and Ripper floatingly felt the little jerks of the speedster’s hips as Barry resumed his thrust, trying to seek for his own pleasure. His mind wasn’t exactly functioning now, he couldn’t comprehend the words Savitar was saying—but he assumed that it was curses if the speedster’s tone was any indicator. The feeling of his sticky cum on Savitar’s body rubbing up against his chest and abs were uncomfortable, but he couldn’t feel his lower half anymore, so that was even more concerning. 

Well, that was until he felt the hardness vibrating inside him—and true to their words, Savitar has no refractory period, as he thrust languidly into Ripper’s used ass, hard like he was a few seconds ago.

Ripper laid there, too weak to move his body and just let Savitar used him while both speedsters tried to embrace their own climax. He didn’t know how long he had been stuck in this hazy afterglow, but he managed to regain a part of his mental faculty back when Barry let out a low groan, vibrating and blurring behind Savitar, statics discharged everywhere as Savitar mewled softly to his chest, shuddering violently on top of him.

“That was good,” Barry commented, looking pleased with himself. 

The speedster planted one gentle kiss at the nape of Savitar’s neck before slipping out of the younger speedster and tucked himself back inside his pants—by then Ripper finally realised that Barry had remained fully clothed the whole time. Barry grabbed a random article of clothing that was scattered all over the bed and the floor, wiping his sticky hands clean with the dark jeans.

“That is my favourite pants, you asshole,” Savitar grumbled, the annoyance was evident in his voice. He gingerly pulled out, before flopping beside Ripper, cheeks tinged pink when his gaze met Barry’s lazy smirk.

“We can always go shopping together later. Spend the whole day at the mall, just the two of us.”

Savitar snorted, rolling his eyes to the side to stare with disinterest at his older counterpart. “Really, Barry?”

“Sometimes doing things at normal human’s pace could be fun.”

“So your idea of that is to take me shopping…,” Savitar scowled at the older speedster. “What the fuck, Barry?”

“We could call it a date.”

Savitar huffed and rolled his eyes. “Barry, you’re weird.”

Barry’s face was a complete unreadable poker face for a split second before he chuckled and climbed over the bed, reaching towards Ripper’s bound hands. There was a strange sensation on his wrists, but when he felt Barry’s hot palms in his own, Ripper knew that he was phased out of his bounds. It was a moment of relief, before his mind started to register the pain and he couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping him as he reflexively brought his blistered wrists to his chest and curled on himself, only to yelp at the sharp pain of his lower half.

“Ahhhh, crap,” Savitar winced, almost sympathetic. “Shit, forgot that you don’t heal fast.”

Ripper managed a shaky half-laugh that ended with a choked gasp of pain.

Savitar winced again, the slightest hint of concern streaked across his face.

“Wait here, I’ll go grab some painkillers from Frost’s lab,” he muttered, sitting up now and Ripper had to wonder what had made him so happy that he would voluntarily offered to help.

Though, when Savitar leant to give Barry a chaste peck on the lips, Ripper immediately know the reasons.

In a flash, Savitar was gone, leaving Ripper alone with his superpowered counterpart. 

Barry sat between his spread legs, trailing one finger over the trickle of blood that slickened his thighs—the Flash’s face was completely unreadable, eyes cold and guarded. There was a pregnant silence between them when the speedster cleaned him up, before there was a whoosh of air and blurred movement, and Ripper suddenly was looking at his perfectly bandaged wrists as Barry snipped off the end of the tape from the roll.

“I’ll have Frost to look at these before you go home,” the man murmured, there was a flicker of wonder and confusion in those sharp green eyes as he traced a gentle thumb over the bandages. “You might need to stay here a little longer, until you’re not hurt too much. I’ll phone CCU—”

Ripper broke to a hysterical laughter.

Barry halted, eyes narrowed when he hissed. “ _What_?”

“You—” the serial killer chortled, although he almost instantly regretted it when another jolt of sharp pain had him curled up to himself. “—are not exactly…,” he huffed, face twisted to a grimace, “… _subtle_..,” he wheezed in a mix of pain and amusement, “…with your jealousy streak, you know?” 

Barry tilted his head, eyes contemplative yet his expression was amused.

“There is nothing that I need to be jealous of.”

Ripper rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s a load of bullcrap.”

Barry winced.

Ripper grinned sardonically. “If you like it so much that you don’t want to share…,” he started, huffing as he tried to prop himself up, only to flop back in defeat, “…put a ring on it.”

Barry froze, his eyes were wide, jaw slightly slackened—and it was the first time Ripper saw the notorious speedster caught off guard like this. His expression was like someone just offered the answer for the equation that he had been working on for years, like when the last puzzle piece finally fits into place—like he was given the water to drink after being in thirst for so long.

Barry was smiling when he bent down to kiss Ripper.

And when Savitar flashed into the room with a very grumpy Frost in tow, Ripper has decided on his bet.

Oh, he was going to bet on a higher stake.

Neither of the rest ever thought of betting on Barry securing a ring for Savitar after all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter in this story and it isn't even planned. Hahahahahhaha. Resuming with original plan next chapter~!
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated! It keeps me alive~


	12. Bartholomew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, the young Earth-77's doppelganger of Barry Allen knew about Barry's feelings for a long time. His creations has been shipping those two for a whole year now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed. Read at your own risk.

Adults were weird.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t word it like that, since on his Earth, he was already considered as an adult two months ago. He was seventeen now, and could legally do magic outside of school (or his house since he was homeschooled), so he was very much considered as a legal adult.

But, he didn’t really know how to adult, so he didn’t count himself as an adult just yet.

“When you said that you want to examine the situation, I didn’t expect for you to have their dicks up your ass…”

“ _Technically_ , I only have Savitar’s dick up my ass.”

“Same thing, Ripper.”

He knew it was impolite, but he couldn’t stop eavesdropping on the group. The real adults were sitting at the nearby table in the dining hall, the food in front of them was completely ignored. Cold and Lena were silent for once, watching the argument in front of them—of which Frost was nagging at Ripper, pointing her well-manicured finger at the bruises peeking out of the unbuttoned collar of the man.

Each one of his doppelganger that he has met was older than him, with Barry being the oldest among all of them. 

Ripper was his favourite though. He was like an older brother he didn’t know he wanted.

Thus, he really couldn’t stop staring at the bruises on the older man’s neck. He was worried. Ripper’s neck looked like the man was chomped down by one of his creatures, and Bartholomew had to wonder if Barry was only humouring him when he said that it was okay for Bartholomew to send more of his dangerous creations here. Perhaps it wasn’t okay. Perhaps this building has no more room for lethal creatures that he accidentally created while mix-breeding his beasts or while playing with this new genetic thingy that Frost had introduced to him.

He made a mental note to ask Barry about it.

But Ripper’s injuries really made him felt guilty. It really did look like the teethwork of Maya, the gigantic plantain creature with sucking pods as its mouth that he accidentally created last year. Maya wasn’t exactly dangerous, but she has the tendency to suck and chomp down on random things. Bartholomew thought that she was adorable, and the sucking didn’t exactly hurt too much, only a little tinge of pain with lots of bruises, but people has been sending complaint owls and howlers about it to his door for weeks before Barry offered to take care of Maya on his Earth.

Feeling responsible as her creator, he squared his shoulders and walked up to their table—only to feel his breathing quickened and the needs to hunch his body smaller started increasing as he left the comfort of his little isolated corner.

He had never seen another human other than his Dad until Savitar crashed into his living room with an injured Barry in tow.

It happened on the second anniversary of his father’s death—when he just turned sixteen—so the vulnerability of his grief had him to be instantly attached to Barry. He lived his whole life only knowing his Dad, being isolated in their home, far up the hill where none of the non-magical folks in the town dared to explore. He never seen another human being. Sure, he knew that they existed out there, just outside the border of his land, but he never dared to break his promise to his Dad and stepped to the world outside. And losing his father had thrown him into the depth of loneliness—his monstrous companions simply weren't enough to replace that vital human connection. Thus, when the speedsters crashed into his home...he was ecstatic, praising the heavens for this gift. The resemblance between him and Barry made it easier for him to convince himself that they could be blood-related. Plus, the man was so mature and reliable like his Dad...

 _That_ had made Bartholomew started to grow an attachment to his oldest doppelganger.

Though, when he followed them for a visit to their Earth, he realized that he has an issue.

He wasn’t good with other humans. 

He felt nervous being in the rowdy crowd of this Earth. The more people around him, the faster his heartbeats would be. He didn’t know how to speak to them, what to talk about—and some of them really scared him, despite him being a full-pledged wizard that could defend himself just fine. People of this Earth were strange. There was no finesse in their decisions, as they always tried to solve everything using violence and brute force. Somebody accidentally spilled a drink to someone’s shirt, and that situation would end up with flying chairs, broken tables, rowdy fights and Savitar’s manic cackle as he egged the barfight.

They could’ve have conjured a simple spell to clean the shirt and refill the drink.

And although Barry had explained that magic didn’t exist here, Bartholomew still think that they could’ve settled things peacefully.

Thus, he always avoided the crowd whenever he visited. He avoided the hangout lair and the dining hall like a plague. He usually went straight up to the topmost floors where Barry kept his creations, but today he realised that the security has changed, and apparating directly to the zone seemed like betraying Barry’s trust.

There must be a reason why the older man suddenly tightened his security measures.

“Hey, kid,” the greeting came with a familiar ruffle on his hair and he was instantly snapped out of his trance. “You’ve been standing frozen there for a good minute…you okay?”

Bartholomew nodded, wincing when he got a close look on the purple bruises necklacing Ripper’s neck.

Maya was ruthless. Now he understood why people of his town were complaining about her.

The older man smiled softly at him, slinging and arm over his shoulder as if shielding him from the crowd and led him towards the table, the slight limp of his gait did not went unnoticed to the younger doppelganger. The people parted as they walked through, giving Bartholomew time to calm his nerves. Ripper urged him to sit next to Frost, where the woman suddenly stiffened, leaning slightly away from Bartholomew, her lips pursed as if she was uncomfortable sitting next to him.

Bartholomew tried to shrink his body smaller, not wanting to antagonize the woman.

Their silent reactions to each other have not gone unnoticed by the rest of the group.

“I’ve seen you swatted Barry’s head with a newspaper roll and dragged Savitar by his ear to your lab, Frost…,” Cold started, shaking his head, chuckling. “But, who would’ve thought….,” he snorted, icy blue eyes eyed Bartholomew up and down; “…out of people, it is this kid that—”

“Shut up.”

Bartholomew winced upon hearing the icy edge in Frost’s voice. The ice woman never seemed to like him ever since he sent his first creature here.

They were just fine before that, but after his first creature, she started to show discomfort around him.

“But he is so innocent,” Lena commented, her voice a lazy drawl as she seemed to be on the same line of thought as her male doppelganger. She reached an ungloved hand across the table to pinch Bartholomew’s cheek. “Look at him. This sweet jailbait here is a pure cinnamon roll.”

Frost’s plate turned to solid ice block in front of her.

“Come on, Lena,” Ripper swooped in to rescue his poor poor cheeks. “He is seventeen. Stop pinching his cheeks.”

“Still a kid to me,” Lena grinned, reaching her other hand to cup Bartholomew’s cheeks. “A _delectably_ adorable innocent kid.”

“Damn it, Lena, you’re married _and_ pregnant.”

“Why is that an issue?”

“Oh, you dirty, dirty cougar.”

They burst to a unison laughter at that comment. 

Well….‘ _They_ ’ as in everyone but Frost.

Ripper sat next to him and Bartholomew was instantly gravitated towards the older man, leaning away from the freezing air that emitted from Frost. The close proximity allowed him a better view on Ripper’s neck, and he felt the guilt flooded his chest again. He swallowed and shakily reached out to touch the bruises, not even thinking about his action, only to squeak and pull his hands away when his action was noticed by the older man. He kept his gaze down on his lap, feeling the eyes of the more adult adults of the tabled zeroed onto him.

His heartbeats picked up a pace again. He didn’t like it when people stared at him.

“Hey,” Ripper touched his shoulder gently. “I’m not mad at you,” his voice was gentle and caring and when Bartholomew looked up at him, the man was tilting his head in confusion, exposing more of that bruised neck to view. “I’m just confused. What are you trying to do?”

“I’m sorry!” Bartholomew blurted out before he could think.

Ripper cocked an eyebrow while Cold and Lena exchanged a confused glance.

“Maya chomped on your neck right?” Before anyone could say anything, Bartholomew launched a full-blown rant. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m her creator, so I’m fully responsible for her doings. She isn’t violent or evil, I swear. She’s a sweet girl underneath that…..look. Don’t ask Barry to kill her, please. She is not dangerous, she is just—”

He was silenced when Ripper placed a hand over his mouth. There was a quirk of smile on the serial killer’s face, amusement twinkled in his eyes as if the older man was straining so hard to hold in his laughter.

Cold and Lena on the other hand, were clinging to each other as they dissolved in a barrage of hysteric laughter.

Frost remained silent and frozen though.

“Ummm—ph?” He tried to speak through Ripper’s palm.

“You’re adorable,” the older man commented, smiling in amusement. He removed his hand to pull on his unbuttoned collar, showing off the bruises that scattered from his neck down to his chest. “But you’re worrying for nothing. This is not caused by your lovely monsters suddenly seeing me as a chewtoy.”

Bartholomew was silent for a moment, before he blurted out, curious. “So there are zombies on your Earth?”

There was a beat of silence before;

“What the actual fuck, kid.”

That was Savitar.

Bartholomew didn’t notice him there. Which was a huge issue because one simply did not miss Savitar. The man announced his entry with trails of lightnings and whoosh of air—a flambouyant entrance to showcase his god-like power. 

But apparently not today.

That was the first time Bartholomew ever saw Savitar walked like a normal person.

The scarred speedster seemed exhausted. His dark shirt was damp and stuck to his back, his hair fluffed out and was even messier and dishevelled than usual, his cheeks were tinged with slight pink and there was the scent of fresh grass and mountain dew that clung to him. The scowl was on his face, though it seemed to be more because of his exhaustion rather than annoyance. 

Savitar then tossed an empty vial at Frost.

“It worked,” he huffed, sounding slightly out of breath as he took the empty seat beside Lena. “But the effectiveness differs between me and Barry. We had to stop mid-spar because his full power returned.”

Frost stared at the vial, cocking one eyebrow gracefully. “His full speed returned faster than you?”

“Yep.”

"Even his black lightnings too?"

"Yep."

“You sound salty.”

“Shut up, Frosty.”

“You’re developing a concoction to hinder your own speed?” Cold frowned, staring at Savitar in disbelief. “That is—”

“—the worst idea in the multiverse,” Lena interjected, finishing her doppelganger’s words with the same tone of disbelief.

Savitar snorted. “You do realize that we have other speedsters in the multiverse, right?”

“And I was thinking of developing some form of painkillers and sleeping pills that should work on speedsters…,” Frost murmured, keeping the vial in her bag with a frown. 

“And alcohol. I want to get drunk for real—,” Savitar added, but his words died down as he stared at his hands, his pinky finger suddenly vibrated. His brows shot up to his hairline as a grin stretched over his face. “Oh, it’s back.”

Before anyone could be amused when Savitar’s fingers started to vibrate one after another, there was a whoosh of air and the familiar crackles of yellow-red lightnings as Barry skidded to a halt at their table—the man looked fresh from shower, his shirt perfectly crisp and ironed, hair still damp, falling over his eyes.

Bartholomew stared in awe. That was the first time he saw Barry without his hair slicked back and the resemblance between him and Savitar was more prominent now.

“Food before shower?” Barry said, eyes crinkled teasingly at Savitar.

“Not everyone is a clean freak like you, Barry,” Savitar scowled, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm starving."

Bartholomew continued watching. It was fascinating to know that these two love each other so much.

Bartholomew thanked his obsessive creations for this knowledge.

All of his creations that he left under Barry’s care on this Earth wanted to see the speedsters become officially together. Every time Bartholomew came for a visit and spent his stay at the Monster Zone, his creations would crowd him with the stories of the speedsters. It was a beautiful partnership that had most of his creations swooned over the couple.

They told him about how Savitar always had Barry’s back even in the worst of crisis. They gushed over the way Barry didn’t say anything when Savitar crawled to his bed every time he had a nightmare and would silently hold the younger speedster in his arms. And they cheered at the fact that Savitar was the only one who could snap Barry out of his murderous trance whenever the older speedster was stuck in his violent mind space. They also told him of the gentle kisses and protective caresses that Barry always lavished on the scarred speedster when Savitar fell asleep in his room.

Bartholomew often spent his whole stay on this Earth curled up in Maya’s warm soft leaf, being lulled to sleep while listening to these stories from his more intelligent and well-articulated creatures.

It wasn’t a surprise then when he was gang-upped by his own creations as they made him promise to never tell the speedsters that some of his much smaller and agile creatures managed to sneak out of the zone to spy on the speedsters’ budding love.

He wouldn’t tell, of course. It was a knowledge that he cherished. 

He already viewed Barry as a father figure, despite the man being only 19 years older than him (okay, maybe _technically_ Barry was old enough to be his dad). Savitar, on the other hand, despite the man’s constant display of irritations, always treated Bartholomew like how mothers in the book always did to their kids. The scarred speedsters were always fussing and nagging at him every time he hurt himself or created yet another creature that tried to kill him, while Barry would smile and remained silent in the background, watching them in amusement.

Bartholomew felt like he had a family again with these two—no, scratch that; he felt like he had a family again with ALL of these people.

“Bartholomew,” Barry greeted, reaching a hand to ruffle Bartholomew’s hair—his palm was so warm and made Bartholomew felt so safe. “Sorry about the inconvenience,” he smiled, handing his much younger doppelganger a keycard. “I neglected to tell you that I had to increase the security of the Monster Zone since Maya is in a breeding season. We had her quarantined, but just to be safe, the security was heightened too. We fear that she will assault someone again whilst her heat is at the peak.”

Bartholomew instantly send a betrayed look at Ripper upon hearing that last part.

“You said that she didn’t assault you!” he said, pointing an accusing finger at the older man.

Barry and Savitar exchanged a confused look.

“Because she didn’t,” Ripper sighed, the corner of his lips quirked to an exasperated smile. 

“But—”

“Kid, I was the one that she assaulted,” Savitar piped in, wiping his mouth with a napkin—and by then did Bartholomew finally noticed that the previously well-filled plates were already empty and been stacked up like a tower. “But that was a few months ago. We heightened the security this time to avoid the same incident from happening again.”

“Not that I was complaining….,” Barry muttered, his voice was muffled by the sweater he was pulling down his head.

“Of course you wouldn’t complain…,” Savitar grimaced, and there was another crackle of lightnings and suddenly Barry’s sweater was gone. “You perverted asshole.”

Barry rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the time remnant’s childish antics. “She introduced a _new interest_ to me.”

“Fuck you, Barry. Fuck you to the depth of hell.”

Barry snorted. 

He then pointedly ignored the cussing Savitar and smiled at Bartholomew. “Maya didn’t hurt anyone,” he assured, voice so gentle and kind. “And if my plant-talk is as good as I thought it is, she is missing you," he then gave an apologetic smile at his teenage doppelganger. "You have to chat with her through a glass wall, unfortunately. She had to be quarantined.”

Bartholomew nodded thoughtfully, clutching on the keycard when Barry chuckled—and there was yet another gentle ruffle on his hair from that warm palm;

“Though, to be honest, I expected you to apparate directly into the zone.”

“You said to not use magic on your Earth unless it is necessary.”

Barry’s eyes widened for a split second before those sharp green eyes softened, and Bartholomew almost let out a choked sob when Barry leant down to kiss his forehead and gave his shoulders a gentle hug.

He missed his Dad.

“You’re so obedient….,” the man ruffled his hair again, nudging him lightly on his shoulder then. “Go ahead. They are missing you.”

Bartholomew was just about to exit the dining hall when he was suddenly pulled up in a bridal-style carry, his surroundings blurred but not twisting like how it would look like when he apparated, the scent of storm and ozone hit his nose before he was set down again right in front of the entrance of the Monsters Zone. He clutched desperately on Savitar’s dark shirt when the vertigo washed over him, and was surprised when the scarred speedster silently held him until he no longer had the urge to puke.

“Savitar?”

The speedster’s lips curled to a hardened grimace as he snatched the keycard from Bartholomew’s loose grip and opened the entrance. He tugged Bartholomew in, letting the entrance closed behind him before he crossed his arms over his chest, but made no move to exit the zone.

“Thank you for carrying me here,” Bartholomew started, a bit nervous because Savitar still intimidated him if Barry was not around to balance the man out. “I’m fine on my own now—?”

“I’m not going to let you go inside here alone, kid.”

Bartholomew frowned, looking behind him when the familiar happy roar of one of his monsters signaled him that they knew he was there to visit them. The roar was followed by excited cheerful shrieking and howls of his other monsters. It wasn't long before he started to here the loud thumps of gigantic paws and legs ran through the artificial environment to greet him at the entrance. There were the sounds of the artificial Earth protesting against a huge slithering creature too. He turned back at Savitar, honestly confused of the man's sudden concern about him. 

“But they won’t hurt me. They’re _my_ creations.”

“Not taking any chance here.”

“But—”

“Nope. No arguments. You’re under adult’s supervision, kid,” the speedster didn’t even give him any chance to retort. 

“Technically, I’m already an adult on my Earth—”

“But you’re not one on ours. You still have one more year till you could be legal on this Earth, kiddo,” Savitar interrupted, looking completely not amused. “Now, go play with your… _things_. I’ll keep an eye just in case something tried to eat you, " he waved Bartholomew away—his expression was irritated and wary—when the big scaly head of the majestic three-headed cobra Bartholomew had created peeked through the trees, the yellow slitted eyes widened in joy upon seeing him.

Savitar grimaced in discomfort when the massive cobra curled itself around Bartholomew, nuzzling their heads to the teenage boy's chin like a spoiled pet.

Though, despite his obvious discomfort, the man made no move to flash out of there.

Bartholomew stared at the older man blankly.

Then, the tiniest of smile appeared on his face when the entrance slid open and Barry walked in with a smile on his face and two cups of coffees in his hands. 

Bartholomew didn’t get the privilege to gossip with his creations, having Savitar’s watchful eyes trained on him all the time, but god bless that he now got the chance to see what his creatures have been excited about. It was a privilege to witness the speedsters’ rare moments of affection—when they softened for each other. The way Barry’s smile lost its sardonic curve and softened just a bit when he looked at Savitar, and also the way the slightest tinge of pink dusted Savitar’s cheeks when Barry playfully leant for a kiss—that action earned the oldest speedster a swat upside his head as Savitar’s mismatched eyes darted in Bartholomew’s direction.

Barry kept smiling though.

Bartholomew smiled too. Guess his creations were right. 

The Flash was madly in love with Savitar, even if the man himself didn’t fully realise it.

Now, should he intervene to make these two realised that fact or not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, Frost is scared stiff of Bartholomew. And I may accidentally shipped Ripper with this adorable dorky kid but too bad that I also might have been considering to make a series of background stories for all these doppelgangers and the temptation to write the romantic clash between Earth-23's serial killer Barry and vigilante Caitlin was too much for me to resist. He liked cold body after all. Ha ha.
> 
> I'm considering adding one of the monsters' POV and also the alien commanders that Barry has a business with. It won't be too long before the foursome with Frost and Deathstorm.
> 
> I hope.
> 
> lololololol
> 
> P/s: Comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
